It ain't easy being Superman's mommy

My Poor Parenting Extends to the Dog

2011-12-02T09:32:00.000-08:00

Today my dog got kicked out of the groomer.

I feel, I think, much the way that one would feel were their child to get kicked out of preschool: You realize that your kid is a total hellion sometimes, and you are embarrassed and question your parenting, but you also expect that a place whose BUSINESS it is to deal with children could...well...DEAL with children.

Aren't dog grooming places equipped to handle dogs that bite? Especially when they have known this dog for a year and I openly discuss her bitey-ness and her nasty poodle attitude at EVERY dropoff? And can a 6-pound dog bite through a muzzle? Because that is what they tried to tell me. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed with the groomer or the dog. What I AM sure of is that I have a ridiculous looking, half-shorn, smug little wench that dropped tufts of cut gray hair all over the seat of my car when I took her home today. She has alot of nerve, that one.

In news of Superman, things have been going....well, they've been going. He takes anxiety medication now in addition to the ADD med. He's been doing much better at getting his work done at school, and he's got a really great teacher this year. She's really good about communicating with me and I feel like she genuinely cares about him. A few weeks ago I was talking to her and she said, "You're SUCH a good mom," and so I promptly burst into tears. Guess you could say I've been taking everything pretty hard lately.

Superman follows me around the house chattering away like a monkey, most of the time. He came into the closet with me the other day and said, "Mommy, when I have a computer of my own, I'm going to have a password. And I will tell you what it is." So I bite: "Oh really? What will it be?" "S-MAN ROCKS!" skip a beat, "Most of the time. Except when I have incompletes..."

Our cat Nicki sits in the hallway and meows like a siren when she wants attention. Instead of waddling her fat cat ass into the living room to sit with us, she wants someone to come and join HER. Needless to say, this can get very annoying. At dinner the other night, Superman was telling Best Fella that he didn't want him to have to work late, that he wanted him to be HERE, at HOME. When Best Fella asked why, he said, "I just want you to be here all the time, so you can say, 'SHUT UP NICKI!' to the cat when she meows." Best Fella and I appreciated this, but I'm pretty sure Nicki did not. I'm just speculating, of course,but she left a trail of cat barf in the office for the next couple of days.

Cloudy With a Chance of Insane

2011-10-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

I attended Superman's first parent-teacher conference of third grade last week. I had high hopes...but alas, they were dashed. This conference turned out to be just like every other conference that I've had since first grade: disappointing, disheartening, frightening.
On the one hand I know how lucky I am that I've got this awesome little boy who is happy and funny and friendly and the biggest joy of my day. On the other hand, it's really fucking hard to hear that your kid doesn't keep up in class, doesn't get his work done, most of the time has no idea what's going on, and that the teacher is genuinely worried about what will happen to him in the next nine weeks.
We visited his pediatrician again last week after an epic meltdown over loud noises, with me thinking surely there is some developmental or sensory issue going on here--there has to be some explanation and effective treatment for these issues. The pediatrician diagnosed him with an anxiety disorder, and stated that anxiety and depression go hand in hand with most ADHD personalities. SUPER SWEET.
So we're trying an anxiety med for a month, in hopes that it will help him have more confidence and in turn be able to try/persevere at new things instead of losing interest immediately if he's not great at it. I'm also having the teacher fill out an evaluation for the pediatrician so that we can see if we need to up his ADD med. LAWD, this sucks. I'm trying to keep it in perspective. But I am terrified of what his future holds--or doesn't hold.

Good'n Disjointed

2011-08-26T06:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Superman's first day of school. As we drove down the street, he counted down: "We will be there in 10..9..8.." once we drove into the parking lot, he exclaimed "FINALLY. I have been waiting to go to third grade for like my WHOLE LIFE!"
And guess how his first day went? "Awe-SOME!"

He was slinging his messenger bag around on his shoulder this morning and asked me which way looked cooler-- this side, or THIS side. sigh

As we reached the stop sign to leave our neighborhood this morning, I happened to look at the front door of the house across the street. There was a little pug standing on its hind feet looking out the door. The house was dark inside, so there was this little light dog with its perfectly round black face peering out at us. You really had to be there, but Superman laughed and said that is HILARIOUS OHMY GOSH I WISH MAWMAW WAS HERE SO SHE COULD SEE THAT I WANT TO CALL HER AND TELL HER ABOUT IT!!!
So when I told him goodbye at school this morning I grabbed him and said oh wait, forgot to tell you something (whisper in ear) "PUGFACE!!" A great sendoff for the second day!

As he was petting our obese cat Nicki and she repeatedly rolled over on her back, he informed me:
"She just always wants to have her fatness rubbed."
To which Best Fella replied, "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that..."

Just Because He's Awesome

2011-08-17T09:17:00.000-07:00

I’ve been full of angst and sadness and anger and feelings of bitterness and inferiority lately. But with summer (finally, Thank God) coming to a close, I am going to turn over a new leaf, as they say, in my attitude. No more dwelling. No more taking everything to heart. No more giving of a fuck what certain people say/do/don’t do.

I am Superman’s Mommy! Hear me roar!

Ahem. Yes. So anyway. I am so grateful for the awesome little human that is my boy. I’ve never been able to type out a birthday tribute to him. I always end up dissolving in tears about two sentences into all of the wonderful ways that he is Superman. Therefore, I am going to throw out a few of the things that make him so funny to me. Some of the Supermanisms that give him the quirk that I love so much, but that also worries me endlessly.

Superman thinks the part of the song ‘Abracadabra’ that says black betty with an angel’s face actually says Blackberries with a Ninja’s Face.

He loves muscle cars, and thinks they are all called Mustangs. He is also dying to have a motorcycle, but won’t ride his bike or on the four wheeler with Best Fella.

I asked him what was wrong because it looked like he was in pain. He said, “Nothing. My butt just itches ‘cause I farted too loud.” Charming!

He likes to turn the volume on my phone all the way up and have the noise of his game and a song playing at the same time, but fireworks make him cry because he says they hurt his ears.

If he had his way, the boy would eat corn dogs three meals a day, seven days a week.

From the bathroom: “Mommy! I just threw up!” I walk in and he’s still sitting down, not pale or clammy or any of the signs that usually say ‘throw up’…..Skeptically, I say, “What?” (because I’m eloquent like that). “I did. I threw up from my butt.” Oh.

His favorite songs, in no particular order: Eye of the Tiger, Country by Jason Aldean, Bad to the Bone, Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars, and The Joker by the Steve Miller Band.

A limousine and a movie room are the ultimate measures of wealth to him.

Superman can watch the same movie(s) or TV shows nine thousand times in a row and never get tired of them.

He is pretty sure that when he grows up he will be an actor, a boxer, or a ninja.

When we’re in the middle of acting silly and laughing at each other he will either say, “Mom, I love you.” Or “I just want a big hug!”

He can’t stop himself from looking over our shoulders or asking what we’re doing the second we pull out our phones or ipads. When I say, “You know what?” He’ll answer with, “None of my beeswax.”

When I pick him up after work I always ask him how his day was. Ninety percent of the time, he answers with a singsong, enthusiastic “AWE-some!”

This boy of mine. Magoo, McGillicutty, Sneezy McGee, Superman, Rocky Balboa, Geebs. The coolest kid in my world. My most favoritest ninja ever.

Hello, my name is Repressed, and I'm a Rageaholic...

2011-07-28T12:14:00.000-07:00

I took the kids to our neighborhood pool yesterday after work. A little girl was playing with Princess in the water, and they were chatting about what school they go to, etc.
Princess pointed at me and said, “She’s not really my mom. She’s my stepmom. And that’s just my stepbrother (pointing to Superman). HE’s my real brother.” (pointing to Wiley)
Ouch. Comments like this have been made before, and although I realize that they are true, they still hurt.
This summer has been really hard for me. I’m feeling the division in our families more than ever. It seems like Superman and I are on one side, and Best Fella, Wiley, Princess, and Their Mother are on the other. This is not a good way for me to feel, but I don’t want to say anything, because I am trying not to be the shrill harpy bitch that I am would sound like if I say what I want to say.
The truth is that I am sick to death of Their Mother. I hate her never ending phone calls, text messages, photos when we have the kids. I hate how she quizzes them on the phone about what they did (or didn’t do) and what we had for dinner, and the leading questions that I know she is putting to them. (Example from Wiley’s side of a conversation the other night: ‘Oh pretty good. We just played. No, we didn’t have a field trip today…Yeah, that’s all we did. We had chicken pizza. It was good. No, chicken on pizza. Yeah. I had never heard of it either…)
What the fuck, whore? I don’t make deep fried fat and lard gravy every night like you do, okay? I actually get off my ass and go to work every day, then come home and get something on the table so we can get into bed at a decent time. I know you don’t know what ‘bedtime’ is, but we do. And just because I made the food doesn’t mean it was wrong. Bitch. (Who me? Bitter? The hell you say!)
So anyway, I’m still feeling like a pretty horrible person, and knowing that she’s driving home the point that Superman and I are LESS THAN Princess & Wiley’s ‘real’ family just drives me over the edge.
I guess that’s probably the hardest part of being a stepmom. You still have to do all of the things a mother does (and more, because you are trying SO FUCKING HARD to be perfect) but you get no return on it. Oh sure, you get the return of knowing that you’re doing the right thing for these children who deserve it, but you don’t get the love that you get from your own child. Superman thinks I’m awesome. He is happy to see me, happy to spend time with me, wants me near, loves everything that I do for him (with the exception of that idiocy I call ‘being responsible’…he could definitely do without that!) But with the other kids, no matter how much I do, it’s usually just wrong. Because I’m not Their Mother. And I couldn’t be more different from her if I tried. Thank the Sweet Lord. Ahem.
So the other night Princess was being a major…um…princess. Best Fella had sent her to her room for whining and griping and (fake) crying about everything from the moment we sat down to dinner she wouldn’t eat all the way through after dinner TV. Then Their Mother calls, and Princess has a tearful extended conversation with her in her bedroom with the door closed. Afterward, T.M. talked to Best Fella. Princess had told her that her daddy was mad at her because she wanted to see T.M. To his credit, Best Fella did not raise his voice or even get angry. He calmly told her that that was a lie, that had never been brought up, and the real reason(s) that Princess was in trouble, which he had also explained to Princess when she was sent to her room. This bothers me to no end, because I feel like the kids have picked up on the whole playing sides against each other, and that is horrible. However, Best Fella said nothing about it, and for me to ask about goings on with T.M. pretty much makes him uncomfortable, so I am holding it all in. Wonder how many calories internal seething and turmoil burn?
Whew. I sort of opened up a floodgate there, didn’t I? My blood pressure is high just thinking about all of this again, but I feel a little better. Hopefully I will hold onto my sanity, and count days off on the calendar until school starts (twenty). ARRRRRGGGHHHH.

Just Keep Swimming, Swimming, Swimming

2011-07-19T08:41:00.000-07:00

After what has seemed like the longest, most painful, most chaotic summer in history (the history of me, anyway), as of Friday, I became inexplicably childless for a week. OK, not really inexplicably, I just like using that word. I know exactly where and why the children are gone for a week. It just seems sort of…unreal. And quiet. And a little bit empty. But also, I don’t have to share my food! I don’t have to hide in the closet or out in the garden when it’s 107 degrees just to get a moment to think. So there’s that.

Superman is staying with MawMaw & PaPa this week, going to Bible school at our old church. My mom sent me a couple of pictures that were taken of him on Sunday evening. In one he is sitting with a little girl who made it known to everyone when they were in kindergarten that she is going to marry Superman. In that picture, he looks slightly shy and serious, and a little bit older than eight. In the other picture, he is with another little boy, and employing his patented head tilt/goofy eyes/tongue out pose. I am pretty sure he’s been having a good time.

I just got off the phone with my mom. My nephews have been spending the night with her and Daddy while Superman has been there, so I know their house has been a zoo. I could hear it on the phone. Before we hung up, Mom asked Superman if he wanted to talk to me. I heard him say, loud and clear, “Nope, not right now!” Little urchin. Hmph.

Best Fella and I have been enjoying having a little time to ourselves over the last few days. We have been to restaurants, been shopping, stayed up very, very late, and spent time at the pool without constantly counting heads. It’s been fun feeling sort of like newlyweds, lavishing attention on each other without having a small person jump in the middle of us every 90 seconds.

Wiley and Princess are at their mother’s this week. We will get them back on Friday for the next two weeks, which is the summer schedule. Two weeks on, one week off. It’s great to have extra time with them during the summer. Best Fella is an amazing father, and he thrives when they are around. It’s also a little hard on us, though. Their mother doesn’t (won’t) work, and so at her house there is really no schedule. No bedtime, no get up time, no obligations to do anything they don’t want to do. So coming to our house where everyone works and there is a schedule and getting up and going somewhere every morning of the week is a little rough at the beginning of every two weeks.

The drama has really taken a toll on me for some reason this summer. I’m finding myself feeling horribly angry and bitter at their mother for being lazy and living solely off of child support, and I get weary way too quickly at the kids when they whine about everything we have to do. I haven’t liked myself very much this summer, and I’ve been consciously struggling to change my feelings. This ‘vacation’ week has made a big difference in my attitude, and that sort of worries me. Am I a mean old hag of a stepmom who can’t handle having my stepkids full time without losing my usually happy disposition? I do not want to be that woman. I’m going to make a real effort to hang onto my normal personality and not succumb to stress and fall into a place where I’m frowning all the time again. I don’t like that. No more frowns! Smiles all around!!

George Lopez

2011-07-12T18:05:00.000-07:00

This weekend Best Fella and I took the kids to Six Flags and Hurricane Harbor. Despite the fact that it was over one hundred degrees everyday, we had a really good time. I had fairly low expectations for this trip, considering the way our precious darlings tend to whine about...hmm...everything. But, I was pleasantly surprised. Wiley, Princess, and Superman played together and got along pretty well for the entire trip.
I was very impressed with Superman's bravery this weekend. Despite the name, he tends to be more cautious(chicken!) than hero when it comes to new! And exciting! Experiences. He rode roller coasters and water rides and gigantor slides. I have never been one to go to amusement parks, much less ride rides, so this was a fairly new experience for me as well. I found that the best approach was to tout his bravery and strength at every opportunity, especially immediately before and after the rides. Watching him on the rides that I could keep my eyes open on was the funniest thing. While Princess and I laughed and screamed our heads off, Superman sat silently, eyes huge and lips sealed tight. I thought that was quite hilarious.
Perhaps the best thing that came out of the weekend was the name for our next dog. Best Fella's uncle, who was our gracious host for the weekend has a lovely (and looney) dog named Ginger that incessantly stalked he kids while they were in the pool. Superman inexplicably re-named the dog George Lopez. Pronounced George Lo-PAZ. I have no idea why, But hearing "c'mon, George Lopaz. Jump in!"...and "heeeere, George Lopaz..." was endlessly entertaining to me. And so we have agreed to name our next dog after that wonderful Mexican with the potty mouth. The End.

At least my tomatoes love me back...

2011-06-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

I finally understand my dad's need to work with plants. He has had his hands in something in the dirt for as long as I can remember. My memory of his gardening begins with the top of a pineapple that he planted. I don't remember specifics after that, but I'm fairly sure it grew into a beautiful something or other. After that, I remember a strawberry patch fenced off with railroad ties in our backyard, followed by tiny sapling trees transported in buckets to the acreage where he later built our house. My brother and I spent many an evening riding in the back of Daddy's little blue Toyota, surrounded by leaking buckets, going out to water those trees. That was about 25 years ago, and most of those saplings are huge and providing shade now.
That's the allure of planting, I guess. You pretty much know what the plants need. Give it to them, and most of the time, you get positive results...something good to show for your care and work. With people, you definitely don't have that luxury.
This stepmom shit is hard, yo. I need help. Or advice. Or maybe just a few more beers.
Halp. Plz....

Of Brain Juice and Dog Lick

2011-03-09T12:26:00.001-08:00

Last night Superman and I had what I believe was our first teen angst drama. And yes, he is still only seven. Hold me.
He had been sent to his room for pouting/begging/being generally bratty about not getting what he wanted. He threw his bookbag onto the couch and stomped off down the hall. I braced for the door slam, because that is one thing I will not tolerate, but he closed the door, and then…and then…turned on his radio. I stood in the kitchen listening as the music got louder, and I laughed. That was such a typical teenager thing to do. Where he got this, I have no idea. I don’t think the kids on iCarly do that…they don’t seem to have any dorky parents around pissing them off. I guess it’s just something in the DNA? Anyway, he came out a little later and shot nerf darts at me until I launched a counter attack and made him laugh.
As we sat at the table for dinner, I realized the music was still blaring in his room, and Superman informed me that the song is “called Damn Girl”. Nice. I love me some rap, but I’m afraid that I have started turning my kid gangster just a little too early.

It seems like every time I post, Superman has bestowed a gem upon me during one of our many viewings of the classic and educational show, America’s Funniest Home Videos. This post is no different.
Last night Superman was narrating the montage of people and animals falling down and up staircases and ladders. “There goes the kitty. Oh, that’s gotta hurt. OH, no, etc, etc”.
When a woman in a nun costume fell down the stairs, he said, “Uh oh. There goes Jesus’s Mother.”

A few other things:

In the bathtub,
S: “Mommy, will my brain get water on it?”
M: “What?”
S: “And, that would be a no. Because it’s already in the brain juice!”

After Penny sniffed and tasted one of the action figure firey dart thingies that he shot at us while we sat on the couch,
“Oh, no one will want that now. It has dog lick on it.”

Gone to the dogs

2011-02-16T14:27:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day started off in typical fashion at our house. After many unsuccessful attempts to threaten--I mean--convince Superman to get out of bed and ready for school, the magic words ended up being, "Happy Valentine's Day. I have something for you." And behold! The blue eyes were opened and the worship of m&ms (emm-dee-emms) ensued!
When I picked him up at his after school program, one of the teachers reminded him not to forget the Special Valentine that he had made. Superman cast his eyes down, walked over to me, and broke the news that he had "accidentally" given my Valentine to his favorite teacher. When I assured him that it was okay, he piped up with, "Well, how about a Valentine's Day HUG!" Oh, my little politician.

Superman and I watched part of the AKC Westminster dog show last night. (Yes we are dorks. What of it?) I believe it was when the working breeds were up for show that the camera was positioned behind the dogs as they filed into the arena. A very large dog with very short hair um..swung.. in front of the camera, and Superman exclaimed "WOAH, look at those nuts! Mommy, did you SEE those?!"

Seven year old boy, indeed.

Random Dudes

2011-01-26T13:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I stopped at the QT at noon. A guy with a blue rag on top of his head held the door open for me as I went in. I smiled and said, "Thank you," as I always do anytime someone is polite like that (which, by the way, happens way too rarely). He said "Woooo, look at that smile!" I thought that was funny, and went on in the store. When I came out, blue rag dude was at the gas pump directly outside the door. He yelled to me, "Baby, you keep on smilin', and the sun will keep on shinin'!" I laughed and thanked him and smiled about that the rest of the day. What a polite catcaller!

Last night Superman and I were waiting in line at Subway. I was laughing to myself at the weirdness of the guy in front of us. He was doing this whole micro management control freak ordering thing: 'I want pepper on this. But not if it's pepper mixed with salt. Do you have just pepper? Then I want pepper, no salt. ONE stripe of ranch, and ONE stripe of chipotle. And on THIS HALF, I want onions. But just on that side..." I was thinking to myself, "Shit Man, get a grip. It's just a sandwich," when he turned around and looked right at me and Superman. For a minute I thought he had heard my thoughts and was going to kill me, but he said, in that same intense/crazy voice: "Has anyone ever told you that he (nodding to Superman) looks just like you? Because he does. I mean REALLY. Wow." And then he turned his back to us again and didn't look back.
And I said to myself, "WHAT. The hell. Was THAT."

7am this morning, Superman has just gone to his room from the kitchen and is supposed to be getting dressed. He is in a dancing/chattering/jumping/clapping good mood this morning, and I have been quizzed on whether or not I remember numerous specific scenes from "Despicable Me". I hear lots of noise coming from his room, but none of it really sounds like 'dressing' noise.
Me: Superman! Get your clothes on!
S: OK! (da da da da...lala...bang, bang, noise, soft singing)
Me: Superman! Do you have your clothes on?
S: No! But I have Pa-a-a-arty Fever.....Got to Boo-oo-gie Down....

It was, needless to say, a great start to my day.

Bits N Chickens

2011-01-25T07:56:00.000-08:00

From Wiley: Well, I was sliding in the snow on my BACK. So tektikally, I wasn't sledding.

From Princess: Daddy, hang it on the knoordob!

From Superman: Princess, stop singing! Your are being annoring!

During a supremely exciting visit to Bass Pro Shops:

Superman: (crouching around a clothing rack) Mommy! Look, I'm hunting!
Mommy: ooh....what are you hunting?
Superman: Adult Chickens

Every moment inside that brain, it is...an adventure.

Oooooh, Hooooo, Witchy Burger...

2010-12-07T13:51:00.000-08:00

Snippets of conversation with Superman last night, while watching "America's Cutest Cat"

Watching a hairless Sphynx cat in a bathtub:
"I know that he doesn't have any hair because he groomed it all off." Like, Duh.

After this adorable clip (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Bmhjf0rKe8), which won the title of Cutest Cat:
"Mommy, can we get one of those? One of those tiny cats what tickles and surprises?"
Because it's a special breed, you know.

During the Manwich commercial where the little girl wears the huge Manwich costume at the dinner table:
Superman: "Now she has to eat her own self. Because she is a ManBurger."
Best Fella & I: "HAHAHAHA HAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAAHAHAH SHE'S A WHAT??!"
Superman: (looking confused) "A...ManBurger...?"
BF & I: "HAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHHAA HAAHAAAAAA HAHHAHAHAHA MANBURGER!!! HAHAHAHAHAA"
Superman: "A WITCH! I mean she's a WITCH!"

Make My Shit the Chronic (the music, I mean)

2010-12-03T08:09:00.000-08:00

What has happened in the last 11 months:

1. Best Fella and I got married!
2. We went to Mexico. I want to go back!!
3. We moved from hometown to big town close to Big City.
4. Superman started a new, bigger school, and also medication for ADD..........
5. I had a nervous breakdown
6. Not really. I am deliriously happy! Also trying in vain to work out the turmoil and worry in my heart because of #4. Any suggestions?

I also want to say that when I hear Katy Perry's song Firework, I realize that it's supposed to be an uplifting and inspiring message, but it makes me want to jump out the window. Katy, I love you, and Best Fella loves your whipped cream shooting boobies. But girl, you can't follow a catchy, catchy song like California Gurls, which features MY BOY Snoop, with a ballad telling me to let my colors burst. Actually, you shouldn't follow ANY song featuring Snoop with any other song that does not feature Snoop.
It's kind of like when the Pussycat Dolls had that stupid "Buttons" song....I'm listening, meh, and then! Snoop!! His rap makes it all worthwhile. I gain new respect for PCD because they realized there was no hope for their group without a little of the Dee Oh Dubble Gee. But then they started playing that song on the radio minus the rap. How DARE you.
Once you add a little Dogg in the mix, you can't take it out. Now every time I hear Katy or PCD, I wait with baited breath for the Smoove Rap. When it doesn't come, I die a little inside. I probably also change the station.

Memorable Quotes. And Enhancements.

2010-01-14T13:43:00.000-08:00

Superman attends a youth oriented program at church after school on Wednesdays. As with most things, Superman is mostly in it for the socializing. And the snacks. But that's okay. I figure an extra bit of wholesome activity with the good folks of our church is a good thing anyway. But THEN...
My mom picks Superman up from the church on Wednesdays. Last week, she had a little piece of paper that had been folded and glued into a cube, and a look of amused...um..amusement on her face.
"This is what he made at church today," she said, handing it over expectantly. I check it out. There is a little picture for the kids to color on each side of the cube, and a suggestion of a thing to do to please God. Mom is still staring at me, smiling. I am confused.
"Um. OK. That's good...?"
"Mrs. Baker says that's perfectly normal for this age." I can all but hear her giggle after she says this. I look again. Still, I am confused. And then. And then, I see it. No, I see them.
Superman has drawn two perfect round and perky boobies on one of the pictures of a nice innocent lady, who is saying, 'I can grow by praying everyday.'
Apparently Superman thought she was praying to have that flat chest filled out, and he was the one to answer. In green crayon, instead of silicone.
"Superman, what is this?"
(Very matter of factly) "Oh, those are her boobies."
"Why did you do that?"
(Shrugging) "Cole did."
So I blame Cole! He is the bad seed! Not my angel! (snort)
"Well, you really shouldn't draw things like this. Especially not at church."
"Oh. Okay." And he goes about his business.

I swear, this kid has no embarrassment gene. Further evidence of this:

Putting on his stocking hat the other night, I said,
"Superman, this is just about too small. Why, why do you keep on getting sooooo big?!"
"Well, I guess because I eat alot. And I fart all the time!"

Conversation between Superman and Wiley, after playing cars for several consecutive minutes:
S: Wiley, is it Lego time?
W: What?
S: Is it LEGO TIME?
W: Oh! You know ANYTIME is Lego time!
S: Let's do it!!

And my very mostest favorite, from this morning before I left for work:
(Hugging me around the neck from his blanket nest on the couch)
"Mommy, I need to tell you something."
"Okay, Sweetie."
"I just love you all the time."
*melt*

Is it any wonder this monkey has me wrapped around his finger??

Mama says Vickie Vallencourt is the debbil!!

2009-12-09T07:37:00.000-08:00

When I got to my parents' house to pick up Superman last night, there was a piece of paper folded on the table, placed conspicuously right above Superman's backpack.
This piece of paper was a telephone number, written in 72 pt font, and surrounded on ALL FOUR sides by hearts.
My boy is in first grade, people. First. He is six. And little miss hotpants phone number giver outer, she is also six. Or possibly seven. Either way, she is at least twenty-five years too young to be handing out her digits. Isn't she?? Am I crazy?? And this isn't even the first phone number he's brought home from school. But it is the first one surrounded by hearts.
Six. First grade. He'll have a driver's license one day.
Please excuse me. I going to go start my psychotic break.

It's no Man From Nantucket, but...

2009-11-13T07:43:00.000-08:00

I have had a favorite poem since college that I usually like to say when I've had a few drinks. Everyone looks at me like I'm a lunatic because I guess my old roommate and I were the only ones who ever heard it. It is best said with a ridiculous lisp:

Mrs. Pussy, sleek and fat
With her kittens, four
Went to sleep upon the mat
Behind the kitchen door

Mrs. Pussy heard a noise
And up she jumped in glee
Kittens! It could be a mouse
Let us go and see

Creeping, creeping,
Silently they stole
But the mouse had gone
Back into his hole

However, I'm afraid Superman busted out a rendition of a lovely Thanksgiving poem last night that just might knock Mrs. Pussy off her throne. Er, mat.

I have a turkey big and fat
He spreads his tail and goes like that
His daily corn he will not miss
And when he talks he sounds like this
GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE

It's not nearly as funny when I type it. But have a six year old demonstrate just how freaking fat this turkey is, what he does with his tail, and what gobblegobble sounds like (with a slight speech impediment)

Hilarity, I say. Hilarity.

So I'm all like, 'Shit'.

2009-11-11T06:19:00.000-08:00

When I got home from work last night, Superman & MawMaw & PaPa were at my house. They wanted to go eat, so we hopped right back into the car and went to eat Chinese. During dinner, after Superman had opened the fortune cookies and read everyone's fortunes to them (by himself!) my mom mentioned that Superman was late getting out of school on Monday. Wha?? Wait, wha?? I didn't know that. Why? Because he had to stay late to get his desk cleaned up/out/off...I'm not sure which.
And guess what? I had NO IDEA about this. No one (including the teacher) let me know it either Monday afternoon/night or Tuesday morning. So I tamped down my feelings of 'i am such a bad mother that no one even thinks i need to be told what's going on in school', and gave Superman the Stern Lecture and threat of more grounding. He gave me the sad/ashamed eyes and we moved on.

When we got home, I opened his folder to get homework started and Lo and Behold, what was there but a note from his teacher, saying that he had not been getting his work done again. Furthermore, she had taken away his lunch recess, but he didn't sit out, and then he lied to her about it. OMG, cue shrieking mother.

Superman ended up having to write two pages of 'i will tell the truth and obey', as well as writing his spelling words and an apology to the teacher. He is grounded from TV and radio for the rest of the week. When he finally finished all of the writing (after much complaining that his hand hurts, he is tired, etc etc) I gave him a bath, lectured some more, and he went to bed.

Once the drama had settled a little, I started thinking, and I am torn between who I am more frustrated with: Superman or his teacher. I mean, I realize that they are trying to teach the first graders some responsibility and get them to do what they're supposed to do of their own accord, but really, who would put a six year old boy on the playground with all of his friends, tell him to sit out, and then leave him, expecting him to sit out the whole time?? I dunno, I just think that was a bad move. I guess Superman's teacher wasn't the teacher on playground duty yesterday, and she must not have notified the teacher on duty that he was to sit out...?

Whatever. I know he should be doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do, and he is being punished, but I also wrote the teacher a long note requesting that she PLEASE keep me updated. After my parent/teacher conference back in September, she was supposed to start putting a smiley or sad face in his folder every day. Well,I would say that 85% of the time, she puts no face at all, so I assume everything is ok. Superman sure as hell isn't going to tell me otherwise.
I think what is happening is that she lets him slack for several days in a row without telling me, then it gets to her and she gets mad and then sends a note home. Well, Superman is six, and probably feels like if he's only in trouble one or two days a week, it's no big deal. He'd rather slack most of the time and deal with a little bit of punishment than work hard all the time in order to have no punishment. I think if I was kept up to date, I could stay on him consistently when he needs it, and we might have better results.

I understand that his teacher is probably overworked or whatever, but if she could just shoot me an email at the end of the day letting me know how the day was, I think it would help. Am I asking too much of her? Am I asking too little of Superman? I'm not sure what I need to be doing, but I am so damn frustrated with first grade, and we're only 4 months in. SHIT.

School, Dreams, and Hedgehog Poop

2009-11-03T13:39:00.001-08:00

Wow, it's been over a month since I blogged. Luckily, no one reads this, so the only one disappointed is mois!

I have actually been having some struggles with Superman, and I just grow so weary of the worry (ha! that sounded stupid) that I don't want to write it down. I guess. Or maybe I just don't think it's funny, so why would I want to write about it? Anywhoodie.

Since first grade began, it has become evident that Superman is not going to be the best of students. In fact, he may not even be a mediocre student. It's not that the cirriculum of first grade is too difficult anything. When tested, he has high averages in reading, spelling, and math. I mean like 80s & 90s averages. His problem is that he doesn't LIKE school work. Superman is not a child for whom learning and doing good work is its own reward/motivation. Nope. Superman needs a concrete reason to do the right thing in school. Preferably a reason that he can hold in his hand or stick in his pocket or plug into the TV for a little gaming entertainment. I have lectured and taken privileges and punished and wept and rent my hair from my scalp by the fistful. OK, maybe not that last one. But my point is, nothing really seems to be working. Superman continues to bring home papers with INCOMPLETE written across them, and I continue having to call his teacher to discuss our game plan in hopes that one day we will find a torture or reward that is motivation enough to make this kid just do the damn shit he's supposed to do in school. SIGH.

I was telling Best Fella that I think my sincerest hope for Superman now is that he will grow up and hold a real job, so that he doesn't have to live in my basement. Not that I have a basement. But I have to have some kind of dream.

Speaking of dreams, twice this weekend I dreamt that I was drowning. The first time I dreamed that I was kayaking through some weird muddy water trenches, and then the mud kept falling in on me and I couldn't breathe. The second dream was me falling backwards into a huge sheet of plastic in water (like Bruce Willis in Unbreakable) and trying to scream Best Fella's name. Before the water totally closed in on me, I had that weird dream thing where I am screaming with all my might, and almost no sound is coming out. Both times I woke myself up gasping for air. Yipe-ity Yipes.
I don't have a breathing/snoring problem or anything, so I don't know if I was suffocating myself with my pillow or what the hell.

So, after those two totally unrelated(but decently segued)items, I shall close with this:
My neighbor has a 4 year old daughter who got a hedgehog for her birthday this weekend. While we were all out playing in the yard on Sunday, they brought the hedghog over for all to admire. After she got fairly comfortable with the giant humans staring at her, Hedgie started walking around on the driveway and proceeded to leave 3 HUGE (relative to her body size, anyway) turds and an impressive puddle of pee behind her. Needless to say, this was the most hilarious thing the kids had seen in, well, ever, one would think. So Sunday night while Superman and I were lying in bed, this is what was said:

S: Mommy, I really want a pet hedgehog.
M: I know you do, Bub, but we can't have another pet. Besides, what would you do with a hedgehog? You couldn't hold it or pet it or sleep with it. It's all pokey!
S: I know, Mommy, but I really liked when it pooped and peed. I liked that.

My kid, he has sophisticated tastes, for shore.

Remembering

2009-09-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

I keep looking at my MSN homepage thinking that there will be a big headline remembering 9/11. So far, there are only a couple of side items. I don't know if this is right or wrong, I'm just surprised by it, I guess.
To say that 9/11 was a big deal for me is thoughtless, as well as an understatement. I was 25 at the time, married, with no kids. I was at work when the news started breaking, and I felt like everyone else: Shocked, terrified, horrified, wondering why why why this would happen, and what it meant for the future. I also spent several months ready to grab my purse and bolt out of the building every time I heard a plane fly low overhead. I spent weeks glued to CNN every night after work, crying my eyes out for those who were lost, and for the families who were lost without them. I hung a flag up at my house and in my cubicle, put one on my car, lit red, white, & blue candles in the windowsill of my house every evening.
It spurred the conversation that my ex and I had about having kids. He wanted to be a dad. Right now. Being a dad would be the push he needed to straighten out (stop living in the bar). I was scared. I didn't want to bring a child into a world where I didn't know what was going to happen. And I wanted him to straighten up before we were parents-to-be.
Alas, obviously, I didn't wait much longer. Superman was born in 2003. His dad never straightened up, and I still don't know what's going to happen in the world, although I have been lulled into feeling fairly safe and secure again.
I still remember the face of a father that I saw on that 9/11 coverage. Like so many others there, he was searching for his adult daughter, who had worked in the Towers. His crying eyes and his hope against all odds that his little girl was there somewhere, alive, broke my heart. Thinking about it now, it makes me cry again. I can imagine my parents in his shoes, and I can imagine myself there as well.
Nothing scares me more now than thoughts of something happening to Superman. Especially the horror of not being able to get to him if he needs me. Becoming a parent has been by far the best thing that I've ever done. Not that I'm the best at it, not even close, but my heart has expanded a million times over.
I'm not sure where this was going, but I just wanted to acknowledge. All of those lost, all of the survivors and families and heroic resue personnel are always in my heart.
Superman, you are the most amazing thing in my world, and I am so glad that you came along when you did. There's nothing that I love more than being your mom. What the future holds for us is impossible to say, but I hope that you have the courage and the confidence and the drive to meet it head on, and change it if you don't like it. You can do it. Same for you, America!

Many Curses: Deux

2009-08-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

Wow. So yesterday sucked. And last night sucked even worse. Superman was perfectly happy and back to normal when I picked him up after work, but when the whole homework thing came up last night at home, he turned into Bizarro Superman again. There was much flailing and crying and whining and pouting (from him, too). He didn't WANT to go to school. He didn't WANT to do homework. Yadda Yadda Yadda. I finally reached the end of my normally very long and stretchy rope, and I actually said to my child: I don't want to hear any more of this crap.

I can't believe I said that. It is so ugly. But I did. And I lectured him in my loud loud voice that says mommy is losing. her. shit. He finally decided that he didn't like me stomping around the house and that he didn't want to end up sitting on his bed with No Toys every day after school. So he did his homework.

After his shower, we had a big talk about why he has to go to school, do homework, NOT tell lies, do the right thing, etc etc. It is because you are going to grow UP, and then you have to take care of yourself and be a MAN, just like Papa and Uncle Ebye and Best Fella. If you don't do the right thing and go to school and learn and do homework, you won't even know how to READ A BOX OF MACARONI AND CHEESE, MAN! What THEN?! You'll end up in a VAN down by the RIVER, that's what!!!! (Thank you, Chris Farley, for the greatest parenting advice ever. RIP, Dude.)

Now is where I would like to say that my son learned a valulable lesson about lying and responsibility, and all is peaceful in our house. However, that would be another LIE. He got in trouble for getting out of bed 3 times after I specifically told him DO NOT GET OUT OF YOUR BED. So then he got a spanking, and then I presume passed out from the exhaustion brought on by a day filled with drama and misbehavior.

It seems pretty minor today, but last night I was really down. I was tired and angry and worried about why my kid has turned into a heathen and what's going to happen to him as he gets bigger (and inevitably badder--such is the way I was thinking last night). Even though I had Best Fella on the phone, I was feeling just about as alone as I ever have. It kills me that I can't even tell Shithead about it...he just doesn't have the capacity to care. Or is it that I don't think he will care the right way? Anyway, in my book, he doesn't even count as a parent. And no one cares about a kid the way their parent(s) do. I think this is the hardest thing about being a single mom. There is literally no one really and truly on my team in a situation like this. I can tell my friends and family about what happened, and they laugh and assure me that it’s typical and that reasserting my role as the boss and making sure there is some punishment for wrongdoing is the right way to go. But, there’s nobody I can turn to who shares the same sincere concern for my boy, and the worry that I am failing him in the job I am doing. I have no one who feels the same total unconditional love for him and the overwhelming appreciation for all of the absolutely wonderful and amazing things about him. He is not a bad kid. He is not a spoiled brat. He has done something wrong, and he is being punished for it. But then, he’s only six. How much of my lecturing really gets through?

I guess I will leave it at this: Last night as I went over the conditions of his grounding, I asked him to tell me why he was in trouble.
S: For telling that lie.
M: That’s right. And you’d better not let it happen again.
S: Mommy, there is just something wrong with my brain!

Many Swear Words

2009-08-26T11:07:00.000-07:00

My dad called just as I was going to lunch today and said that he'd gotten a call from school and had to go pick up Superman. Apparently, Superman was crying because his daddy is in jail. WTF. Here's a little backstory: Superman's father is an alcoholic. While we were married, he went to jail 4 times for DUI. Each time he was able to get off with steep fines and community service. Superman was only 2 when we left, so he doesn't remember any of this. Sometime last year, Superman's father (I'll call him Shithead for short)wrecked his then-fiancee's car while driving under the influence without a license and without insurance or proper tag. He spent one month in jail. ONE. Because Shithead has been such an absentee, non-reliable parent for his entire life anyway, not seeing him for a whole month wasn't really a big deal to Superman. When he did ask about his daddy, I told him he must be having to work, and that's why he hadn't called. (Not that he ever calls to talk to Superman anyway. He only calls the day before he feels obligated to come see his child for a few hours, and then he calls me at work) So anywho, as far as I know, Superman has never known that his dad is a big fat stupid ass selfish lazy irresponsible convict. Ahem.
SO. This thing today with crying at school because his dad is in jail was very very wack indeed. So I talked to Superman and couldn't really get anything out of him. He'd told my mom that I told him that Shithead was in jail last night. Absolutely not true. Nothing has been said about Shithead for several days, least of all anything about jail. So as I'm trying to drag some tidbits of information out of my six-year-old, he just keeps saying, I don't know...somebody hurt my feelings...I just don't want to go to school today... I'm getting nothing. I (thought I had) convinced him to go back to school this afternoon, so I asked my dad to call me with an update after he took him back. So my dad called me back in a bit and said he thinks perhaps Superman just didn't want to go to school today. That dirty leetle raaat (I say that with much affection). I guess he told Papa on the way that he didn't want to go, he just wanted to watch TV and play Playstation. So Papa told him that if he stayed home from school this afternoon, there would be neither TV nor Playstation, and probably wouldn't be tomorrow, either. So then Superman was ready to go back to school. I don't know if this whole 'daddy in jail' thing was something that some other kid cried about yesterday or something, or if he dreamed it and decided to go with it, or WHAT. All I know is that it was a horrible coincidence, and that I am extremely freaked out that my six-year-old is (I guess) making up awful lies and making himself cry about them to get out of school. It's the second week of first grade, Man. WHUT IN THA HELL. It's not like he's stressing out over flunking Algebra II or anything. (Yeah, I've been there.)
So I guess I'll go home tonight and punish him. And then worry some more about how psychologically damaged he is because he comes from a broken home. WTF HOLY SHIT DAMMITALLTOHELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!

My Guilty Guiltiness

2009-08-18T07:29:00.000-07:00

Superman starts first grade tomorrow. He is, of course, very excited and ready to get back to the serious business of playing with his friends five days a week. We went to open house at the school last night to find his new classroom and meet his new teacher. She is a really sweet person, and she seems like she will be lots of fun in class. She conveniently also taught Superman's two older cousins, so she sort of 'knows' us, and already has a positive feeling about Superman.
Also, Superman's best friend (who is a girl) from way back in pre-k is in his class this year. They saw each other last night and had a little reunion of sorts. There are a couple of boys that he played t-ball with, as well, so all in all I think he will have fun, once again. Hopefully he will also develop a little more discipline and perhaps even a desire to learn....but I am trying not to get my hopes up too high. heh.
My mom went with us last night, and while Superman showed me around the library, Mom chatted with the school secretary, whom we have known forEVER. She passed on the info that Superman is very likely to be his teacher's 'helper', so that he will get to run things between the office and his teacher, and conveniently see Ms Secretary and give her hugs every day. He will be thrilled with this responsibility. I was happy and excited for him when Mom told me, and then I immediately felt sad as well.
See, Best Fella and I are planning on getting married next summer. This means that Superman and I will move and be much closer to the Big City. This means a new school and making all new friends, both for Superman and for me. I am dying of guilt. I am going to be yanking Superman out of this little school where he is so at home and putting him somewhere that we don't have the advantage of being known. There have been no older sibilings or cousins or any family at all to pave the way in this new town for Superman. I have already planned for him to join Cub Scouts this year, so that next summer when we move he will have a built in way to meet kids in town, but still. I am terrified that he will be lost. I am terrified that I am going to cause a negative and permanent change in his path. Add this to the guilt that I am feeling over having requested that he not be placed in the same first grade class as his best friend from kindergarten (because of behavior issues on the other kid's part), and I am a mess! WAH!
I am trying to convince myself that branching out will be good for him, and will help him build character, and see that there's much more world out there than our hometown. I'm sure there will be broader opportunities for extracirricular activities at a bigger school, so if he's not a sports star, he will be able to find his niche anyway. And then I cry, thinking of my blue eyed baby walking into a big scary school all by himself. And then I think of the days he came home from kindergarten last year, saying "What's yer name, baby GURL!", and I remember his best friend from kindergarten. And then I am glad that we will be going somewhere else. Because any kid that teaches my six year old to say "Shake it all AROUUUNNNDDDD!" is no friend of mine. hmph.

Have Some Freakin Manners, You Idiots

2009-08-14T06:16:00.000-07:00

I stopped for gas this morning, as I generally do twice a week. I am as regular as a rabbit on Metamucil at the QT up the street from work. I stop there every stinkin day for ice, and twice a week for gas. It is my second home, is what I'm sayin. It is quite often that I get frustrated at other customers for their lousy parking, speeding through the parking lot, or generally atrocious hygiene. Aside from these annoyances, what irks me the most about these customers is their lack of common sense. Therefore, it is high time that I utilize this forum (which is viewed regularly by a whopping 1 people-that would be me) to provide a brief lesson on the proper way to handle refueling.

1. Remember: If it is 7:45am on a weekday morning, the majority of the people who are at the gas station/convenience store are on their way to work. They probably need to be there in about 15 minutes. Whether you have (or have ever had) a job or not, most of these people are providing for themselves and their families (and maybe even YOU) through the income that they bring home from their job. It's pretty important that they get there, is what I"m telling you.

2. When you pull up to a gas pump, you should hop out and fill up. Don't sit in your car screaming at your poor kids or brushing your hair or finishing your cigarette or fighting with your significant other.

3. If you are not paying at the pump, or if you need food/coffee/beer/cigarettes/pop from inside, and there is more than one of you in the car, one of you should put the fuel in the car, the other should go inside and pay/purchase the necessities. This is much more efficient. And sane. I don't care how bossy she is, fellas. She can take her ass into QT and pay while you put the gas in the car. Be a man. Damn.

4. If you are alone, and you do not pay at the pump, please please please don't waste time inside. Pre-pay, walk briskly back to your car, fill up. Be gone. If you really have to make other purchases or use the restroom, please do it after you have moved your car away from the gas pump.

5. When every pump is occupied and cars are idling all along the perimeter of the lot waiting, under no circumstances should you: a.park at the pump and then spend 10 minutes emptying trash out of your floor WHILE YOUR CAR SITS AT THE PUMP b.get gas and then spend 10-15 minutes inside in the restroom WHILE YOUR CAR SITS AT THE PUMP c.spend 10-15 minutes inside shopping for your breakfast WHILE YOUR CAR SITS AT THE PUMP d.all of the above

Thank you for your time. Have a lovely weekend.

A Few Things

2009-07-28T14:05:00.000-07:00

1. Last night, Superman said to me, "Mommy. I have to tell you something. And you can't tell NOBODY else." I said, "OK, I won't tell ANYBODY else. What is it?"
"Come here. It is a secret. I have to tell you a secret."
"OK..."
(Breathy whispering in my ear) "UM..Did you know...that...I...um...Did you know..um..that...I..um..." This went on for a VERY long time, until finally the rest of it came to him- *bing* "Tomorrow we are going to have a living room test!"
"WTF?" No, I didn't really say WTF to my six year old. But I said what in the world is that...
"UM. A living room test. At thirteen a.m. So you need to come home from work VEEEERRY early."
The mind of my six year old. It is inexplicable at times.

2. Superman is swimming really well this summer. We've never used floaties on his arms, but this summer I don't really even have to be in the water with him, and I'm (fairly) comfortable that he won't drown. He loves to go off of the diving boards at the city pool, and since the water is 11' deep down there, I do stay in the water and close. But, he jumps in and swims to the side all by himself. With his goggles on the whole time. My boy. But, last week we had a swim party for the last day of Bible school. Superman was in the water swimming with some bigger boys and having a blast. One of them (another only child) had sort of adopted him and was carrying him around down in the deep water where he couldn't even touch on tippy toes. When he got tired of that, he put Superman down, and I stood at the side and told him to hurry up and swim over here to where he could touch. Well, he was tiring out from all the fun, and he swam and swam and gulped a few times, and then a little voice said, "Can somebody push me over to my mommy?" HOLYCRAP Of course, I jumped in and then we went home and mommy took her nitroglycerin. ahem.

3. Friday night we went to a birthday party for Best Fella's little niece. I was talking to BF's aunt, and she was explaining to someone else there who my parents are. (we're all from the same small town) Then she turned back to me and said, "Do you know that when we were in high school, your daddy was some hot stuff!" So of course I had to tell my mom and daddy about it, so that Mom could smile proudly and not her head like "you know that's right!" and Daddy could be horribly embarrassed. Oh, I love them so. They are hilarious. And that is not the first time that I've heard something about my daddy being cute or handsome or wonderful or whatever. I've heard several times about how pretty my mom is, too. And they are. Inside and out. I'm so dang lucky.

The Foot of the Mountain

2009-07-23T13:26:00.000-07:00

Superman has been attending Bible school at our church this week. It's 2 hours in the evenings, so I get to be there as a 'helper', too. It's been an adventure so far. I'm 'shepherd' to the 3-4 year olds, which means I herd them between their different activities at 20 minute intervals. The first night I had 5, second night 7, and last night, 8 of them. It really hasn't been too bad, it would just be easier if I could tie them all together. I was expecting a gaggle of baby Supermans who would want to hold my hand and stick to my side everywhere we went. Instead, I got a bunch of cute little goons who babble, whine, and wander away every 3 seconds.
We got kicked out of story time on the first night after 5 minutes. The goons didn't seem to care, probably because I took them to the playground to burn off some energy as punishment. heh.
Anyway, I started patting myself on the back last night for possibly growing as a person. You see, I have a ridiculous hatred of feet. They disgust me. Don't get me wrong, I wear sandals and flip flops and do my toes and all that, it's just that being touched by other people's feet, or having them touch mine...makes me retch. I had a pedicure last summer as a birthday gift from Best Fella, and I spent the whole time apologizing to the spa girl because she was having to touch my feet. She was laughing about how much she loooooves feet and how beeeeaaauuutiful they are, and rubbing all over mine....and she is deranged. Anywho, the very first night of Bible school, one of my kids couldn't get her shoes off to get into the Jupiter Jump. So I had to help her. And she was wearing leather shoes, with no socks. (urp) When I undid the strap across the top of her foot, she also had a HUGE white bandage taped to it, because she'd had to have something cut OUT of her foot. AUGH. The removal of the shoe revealed stinky little toes with vile dirt and sweat and whoknowswhatthehellelse all over and in between. BLARG!!!!! So, I made it through that, and thank the Lord she was able to get her own shoes back on. But I also have a boy in my class who insists on taking his shoes off at EVERY SINGLE ACTIVITY we go to. They are regular little boy Velcro Batman tennis shoes, but he can never never get them back on. So I have to work his sweaty little socks back into his shoes every 20 minutes. (whimper) Sorry, I didn't realize how much I was going on and on about this. The point that I meant to get to is this: last night, I realized that I didn't even hesitate or cringe (internally or externally) when I had to handle this child's feet. yahoo! Has my phobia abated? Minimally, I do believe. His feet are covered in socks, and that is a positive point. Have I come to love feet? Um, no. I've said this before and I'll say it again: DO NOT TOUCH ME WITH THEM UNLESS YOU ARE MY BIOLOGICAL CHILD AND THEY ARE FRESH FROM THE BATH. I WILL NOT THINK IT IS FUNNY. THE END.
Now that I've done all this ranting about feet, I'm feeling a little ill again. Perhaps the abatement of my foot phobia was short lived. I was only on good behavior for the duration of Bible school.
What Would Jesus Do? Wash the Disciples' feet.
What Would Superman's Mommy Do? Tell them where the garden hose is.
Ahem. I am ashamed.

Unsolicited Advice

2009-07-15T09:05:00.001-07:00

A coworker shared with me some advice he gave his son in a letter for his 18th birthday. It made me realize that there are a whole bunch of things that I want Superman to remember, and although I try to pound them into his precious head regularly in our everydays, sometimes seeing it written down makes it more concrete. (or as Superman would say, concreek) So here you go, Punkin. Although you're only six as I type this, hopefully when you're EVEN BIGGER UP TO THE SKY (as you love to say) you'll be able to find something useful in some of the things your silly ole mommy believes.

1. Have faith. Although we often (or usually) can't understand how, God is directly involved in our lives. He loves us and cares for us more than we can begin to understand.

2. Find the joy joy joy in every day. There's alot of bad in the world, but there is so much more that is good. Find that good and appreciate it, be thankful for it and happy about it every day of your life.

3. Laugh ALOT. Especially at yourself.

4. Be the first one to say 'I'm sorry'.

5. Be compassionate.

6. Be tough. Stand up for yourself and for those who can't stand up for themselves.
Don't let anyone pick on you, and never be a bully.

7. Work hard. No matter what kind of work you are doing, do it right. Give it your best effort, and have a good attitude about it. Laziness and a bad attitude are some of the worst characteristics you can have, both in the workplace and in life.

8. Be polite. Hold doors, say please and thank you so often that it becomes habit. There are far too few manners left in the world.

9. Remember that you are not entitled. We have to work for the things we want, and we have to rely on ourselves. No one is going to hand you what you want on a silver platter, and that's a good thing. You'll have stronger character than most people that you know.

10. Appreciate your grandparents. Never forget, neglect, or disrespect them. They would go to the ends of the earth for you and your mom. They know what love, family, and integrity are all about.

11. Save money. Never spend all you have. Never borrow more than you can easily repay. Always have a little set back for an emergency.

12. Be strong. Be yourself. Follow your own path, don't follow the crowd. Take pride in what makes you an individual.

13. Call your mom. She loves you more than there are fishes in the sea, and to the moon and back.

Why I Am Not My Usual Smiley Self

2009-06-29T12:25:00.000-07:00

Reasons my day sucks:

1. I need daycare for Superman for next week. I am worried about leaving him anywhere. Plus I'm having trouble finding a place that will take a six year old for only a week.

2. I am wearing pants that make me look fat(ter).

3. My car needs to be washed. Really badly.

4. I saw a kitty cat get run over on my lunch hour.

5. I have eaten approximately half a bag of Dove dark chocolates with almonds since 10am. Actually this could be a reason my day doesn't suck quite so much.

6. I need daycare for Superman. WAH

*Disclaimer* I know it's not really that bad. In fact, not bad at all. Things could be much, much, much worse. And I am truly thankful that the above list is pretty much all that I have to worry/be sad about. I am so blessed. Just in a shitty mood today, I think. PMS, I suppose. But really, the kitty cat...that was just horrible. Plus Kermit is dead. More on that later, perhaps. For right now, I need some more chocolate.

A Recurring Theme...That Makes Me Frightened

2009-06-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

Playing basketball out on the driveway
S: Mommy, when I get big, I am going to have lots of dates!
M: Do you even know what a date is?
S: Yes, it's when you go to the city and...eat food.
M: OK, but no dates until you are...seventeen. No, wait. I mean twenty-five.
S: But I want to go on dates NOW!

Having breakfast side by side at the table Sunday morning. Superman was dressed and ready for his biological dad to come pick him up for a visit.
S: Mommy, this is like a date.
M: Yes, it is kind of!
S: But Mommy, you are in your peejamas.
M: Hmm..I guess I'm not a very good date, am I?
S: No, you are supposed to dress nice on a date.
M: How do you know this??
S: (smug shrug)I just know it.

Superman fell asleep in the car, and when we pulled into our driveway, he sat up with a start and said something incoherent. I turned around, and he was awake and sort of smiling with this look that said, I'm pretty sure I just talked in my sleep...
M: Baby, were you dreaming?
S: (giggling) Yes...
M: What were you dreaming about?
S: Me and Norah were KISSIN EACH OTHER!!! hahahahahahahahha
M: (oh Dear Lord please help me)

A String Around My Finger

2009-06-11T06:18:00.000-07:00

Some funny things Superman said when he was littler that I want to remember:

taxi= "tat-see"
fox= "fotts"
puppy dodd

at age six:
my heart is beeping all the time
that is nice manners, isn't it, Mommy? (when he holds the door, says please/thank you, helps, etc etc)
he has also taken to calling me "you little missy"

Last night when we went to bed, we had this conversation:
S: Mommy!
M: Yes, baby?
S: I like all of your shirts. And your pants. And your shoes. All of them.
M: (?hmm?) Well, thank you, baby. That's an awfully sweet thing to say. And did you know I like everything about you? Because you are my best boy.
S: Yeah, I like everything about you, too. And you are NOT stinky or stupid!

'Tis so good to be loved.

No Laughing Matter

2009-05-27T13:39:00.000-07:00

Superman and I always seem more worn out after a three day weekend. I guess it's because we try to cram so much fun in, when we should really just take advantage of the extra relaxation time. Alas, Monday was a rough day for Superman. He was super emotional. He cried when I tried to convince him to just TRY to get started off on his bike by himself. He cried when he wrecked his bike. He cried when everyone wanted to take a bike ride, but he wanted to stay home and play ball...he cried and cried and cried. Superman is generally a tender little sort of fellow. He gets frustrated fairly easily and can be sensitive when he feels like someone else is insinuating that he is not as good at...whatever. But Monday was way more dramatic. It was kind of a cry baby fest. Needless to say, I was rather tired of the crying by the time bedtime rolled around. While I was running water for his bath, Superman peed and then proceeded to dance around the bathroom while I asked him repeatedly to TAKE.OFF.HIS.CLOTHES. Somewhere in this little ditty, he got tired and decided to sit down on the lid of the toilet to talk to me. Welllll, he had left the lid and the seat up, and he fell right in. There was a moment of shocked silence when he got up and looked down at his wet clothes (and I hoped he would laugh), then I said "Bub, are you okay?" And then he burst into tears and wailing "You are makin fun of me!! WAAAAHHHHH SOB HICCUP SOB WAAAHHHHHH" OH the drama. So he had to sit on his bed until he calmed down. About 5 minutes later, he came into the bathroom and said, very calmly, "It is not funny when I fall in the potty." Even though I hadn't laughed at him, his heart was broken. Twas horrible. But slightly funny. But I did not make fun of him. Or even laugh. Sigh!
Anyway, he was asleep on the couch when I got home from work last night, but had no trouble going to bed at bedtime, so I'm hoping he caught up on his rest and will be back to his super self today.
We ate dinner with my parents last night, and we were sitting on the deck admiring my dad's planter garden. Gazing at the tomato plants, Superman said, "Papa, did you plant any corn dogs?"

Could Kermit still love Miss Piggy if she ate bacon?

2009-05-21T08:57:00.000-07:00

Superman has a hickey. NO, not an actual grody makeout hickey. If that were the case, there would definitely be no blog, because I would be dead on the floor. When I got home from work last night, he had a huge purply nasty thing on his upper left arm. I immediately thought it looked like a hickey (not that I know what they look like. ahem.), but of course, I asked him what happened. He told me "I bited myself." In the course of our conversation, I got out of him that they had watched a movie at school, and apparently he spent most of the time with his head AND his mouth resting on his arm. Sheesh. So my baby will not be wearing any sleeveless "muscle" shirts for several days.
In amphibian news, last weekend we visited Best Fella's grandmother. On a bike ride, the kids discovered a ditch full of water and (as Superman says) tad-a-poles! of course we had to bring home a big batch of them to see what happens. I had the bright idea of putting some of them into the fish tank...and now we are minus about 6 tad-a-poles, and Kermit is very fat. yick. I have seen big fat nasty cannibal bullfrogs on TV before, but I never dreamed our sweet li'l Kermie could be so vicious. And disgusting. And greedy. Those tad-a-poles were nearly 1/3 his size. And he at them ALL. Luckily, Superman hasn't noticed, and we still have about nine hundred and thirty six tad-a-poles in their original bucket out on the porch. So. I don't know how I will go about explaining cannibalist frogs when he finally asks. I guess I will handle it in much the same way I handled it when we discovered that our one single Gary the Snail had had a million babies (hermaphrodite)....I will avoid that conversation. Good? Yes! Some knowledge about nature is good. Too much sex ed in kindergarten? Very very bad.

The Fwog in my Fwoat

2009-05-13T06:52:00.001-07:00

This is Kermit The Frog. (Original, I know. It was either Kermit or Christmas, so we went with Kermit) The picture is no good, because I either don't have a very high quality camera or I don't know how to use it, but maybe you can sort of see his feet...a little? Anyway, he's our little African Dwarf water frog that has lived in Superman's fish tank for nearly a year now. He has personality and has become well-trained about dinner time and looks like he's smiling most of the time, and we generally like him alot. Oh, stretched all the way out like this, from toe to toe, he's probably about as long as my pointer finger. We had a funny little discussion the other night on the way to t-ball. (Superman and I, that is. Not Kermit and I...) I've had a sinus infection or allergy attack or something for the last few days that has made me very hoarse.
S: Mommy, why you are talking like that
M: My throat is a little sore, so it's making my voice sound funny
S: That's why you are sick
M: Oh, I'm not sick, I just have a little sore throat. It's okay.
S: OR, MAYBE you have a fwog in your fwoat!
M: That's right! Kermit jumped in my bed last night and I swallowed him! Ribbit!
Superman thought this prospect was hilarious, of course. So later, at bedtime, I had taken some Tylenol Sore Throat *good stuff, by the way*, and it was a little better.
S: Mommy, you are not sounding like you have a sore fwoat anymore.
M: No, I took some of that medicine and it is helping
S: (very matter of factly) So you don't have Kermit in there anymore.

The card Superman gave me for Mother's Day is one of those that you can record your message on and then it plays a little song. SO cute. As soon as he gave it to me, he took it back and started recording over his original sweet "Mommy I love you!" and putting every dumb thing he could think of, including "Mommy, you are a stupidhead! heeheeheeheee IAMJUSTTEASINGMOMMY!" So I asked him to please make my card back the way it was at first. The poor card sat around with no message at all, and then when I got home from work last night, I noticed that it had been moved. So I checked it, and now it says:
"Mommy I love you! And you are not stupid!"
Ah, the heartfelt sentiments of a six-year-old...When he's fourteen, I'm going to break this card out and say "SEE! I am not stupid! You said so yourself!"

By George, I Think He's Got It

2009-05-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Mother's Day. Twas a lovely day, indeed. Actually (or as Superman would say, Ackshuwy,) twas a lovely weekend all around. We finally had a few consecutive hours without rain for the first time in what seems like weeks. I got my lawn mowed (mown?), Best Fella washed my car, Superman played soccer, then went to a cousin's baseball game, AND...AND...ready for this??? Learned to ride his bicycle without training wheels!! Woohoo!! I am ohsovery proud. He'd been trying tentatively once in a while to ride, and it just wasn't going very well. He would get frustrated and teary after about the 3rd spill, and then he'd start yelling at me "You KEEP LETTIN ME GO!" But for some reason, yesterday it all just clicked. I think the bike I got him for Christmas is a little too tall, so he has to have help getting on and getting started, but he's doing great. He also can't turn yet, but I'm thinking he and Papa will probaby have that conquered by the time I get home this evening. He was so proud, too. He kept looking up at me and saying "Mommy, I can DO it!" Watching him ride down the road to Best Fella, I kept thinking about him hopping on that bike and riding all over the neighborhood with his friends when he's about 9, going WHERE I CAN'T SEE HIM and doing things WITHOUT HIS MOMMY THERE and I would get a little sad about my boy growing up. So I had to put the mental smackdown on myself and say, "Sheesh, Helicopter Mom, get a grip!" SIGH Will it get easier to let him go as he gets bigger? Please tell me it will. *sniff*

We don't like Ole Sneaky Snake

2009-05-06T06:27:00.000-07:00

When Superman was about a year old, he began having what I think were night terrors. He would sit up in bed crying hysterically and be inconsolable for around 15 minutes. Aside from scaring the crap out of me (the first time it happened, my first thought was that there was a scorpion in his bed. where did THAT come from?!), it really broke my heart to see my baby so upset and scared and there was nothing I could do to make it better. Thank the Lord, this did not go on for more than a few weeks.
As he's gotten older, he has had bad dreams here and there, but he's always woken up from them and I'm able to talk to him and reassure him that the bad dreams aren't real, he's safe here at home, Mommy's not going to let anything happen to him, etc etc., and I thought it was all fairly normal. Lately, however, I've been a little worried that he's having more bad dreams and just not telling me about them.
It's routine for us to go to bed and say our prayers (now I lay me...) and then add on other things we need to talk to Jesus about. For the last 4 nights, Superman's prayer goes like this: I don't want all of my dreams to be in my head. That is all. Amen.
WHA!? My poor baby! He hasn't been waking up or crying in the night, so I don't know if he doesn't wake from his dreams or if he's just finally learned to go back to sleep by himself, or if he's not really having bad dreams, just remembering some from the past? Either way, it sucks. I'm worried that he's got some kind of psychological issues going on, and they only affect him at night? Then I worry that if that's the case, could he grow up to become one of those people who sleep walks and commits horrible crimes in their sleep?! AAAIIIIGGGHHHH!!!!!!! Being an overprotective mother with an overactive imagination can really be exhausting. sigh.
I was discussing this with Best Fella the other night, and he asked me if I knew what he'd been dreaming about. I said that lately, nothing that I knew of, but in the past, he's had a few episodes where the bad dreams were always about snakes. Best Fella said, "You know what that means, don't you? He's scared of his own weiner." After I smacked him (in my mind) I told Best Fella that he'd definitely paid too much attention to the Freud portion of his human psychology class, and he needed to stop talking nonsense about my boy. HMPH. But then I got worried that he does have some issue? I don't know. I'm sure he's fine, it's just that he hates having bad dreams. And who doesn't? And I guess I am also very very glad that he feels like asking Jesus to keep the bad dreams away is something worth doing. At least I can hope that the seeds of some comforting faith have been planted in his fertile little mind, and that is more powerful than any silly ole snake dream.

And my heart is bursted-ed again

2009-04-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

I spoke to Superman on the phone twice yesterday. This was a treat, not only because it puts me in a great mood to talk to my boy on the phone during the workday, but also because he was thinking of his Mommy! (awww)
The first conversation, at about 8:07am, went like this:
S: Um, hi Mommy.
M: Hi Sweetie! What are you doing?
S: Um, Mommy, I brushed-ed my teeth ALL BY MYSELF
(I usually brush for him after he's done it to make sure our dental hygiene stays on the up and up)
M: That's great, Bub. Did you brush them ALL REALLY GOOD?
S: Yep!
M: Awesome! How did you get to be such a big ole guy?
S: (with an audible eyeroll) I am six years old.
Oh, so big. And growing so independent. Mom is definitely not ready for this. Then, on my way home from work, I called to check in with Papa, and Superman answered.
S: Hi, Mommy
M: Hi Baby. Would you tell Papa that I got his message today?
S: *silence* aside from the cartoons I can hear in the background
M: Superman? Can you tell Papa that I got his message?
S: yeah
M: Can you tell him now, please?
S: yeah *silence*
M: Superman, honey--
S: OK. Papa---Hey, Mommy. I wrote you a NOTE today!
M: ! You did? I can't wait to read it!
S: Yeah. I put it on your pillow
M: Well, thanks, hon! I can't wait to read it
S: It says "Mom I love you, Superman" and I drew a cat on it for you
M: Aw, thanks, sweetie. That is so nice of you! I love you too and I can't wait to see it
So when I got home, Superman took me by the hand and brought me to my note, and instructed me to read it, and asked me "do you love it?"
And of course I do. It has a place of honor on my office bulletin board now.
So my day started on the good note of dental hygiene, and ended on the big open heart of my sweet boy. SIGH. Life is good.

Thumbsucking & Ozzie Osbourne

2009-04-23T13:15:00.000-07:00

I took this (very crappy, yet conveniently anonymous) picture on Tuesday night at Superman's t-ball game. This isn't Superman, but our precious li'l thumbsucking catcher captures the spirit of our entire team. NOT that they are scared or babies or anything bad, but that they are, more than anything else, little boys. They are the cutest, funniest gaggle of yayhoos ever to assemble on a field, I do believe. Although our team can bat fairly well, our fielding has alot of room for improvement. This was our second game, and they did at least get some outs. That is a major development. I have taken up residence at practices and games out near 3rd base, and I will stay there, because I pick up gems like this(oh, and keep in mind, these are spoken in the heat of play, when everyone is VERY SERIOUS INDEED):
(Shortstop to 3rd baseman) "Hey Gus, tomorrow at school, let's chase the girls!"
(Runner to 3rd base coach) "Hey, you want an Indian Burn?!"
Ahhh, they are precious. I sort of want them to stay this age forever, when nothing is serious enough to be of concern for more than 2 minutes.
Speaking of age, Superman turned 6 last week. I kept trying and trying to write a post about it, but I kept getting all choked up thinking about all of his wonderful little ways and the amazing ways I see him growing up every day. I look back at pictures of him as a drooly, chubby baby, and then I see him out on the field, looking tall and lanky in his baseball pants and cleats....and then he runs to from 3rd base to home plate, and pauses to wave and smile at me. And now I am teary again. SIGH
He is also playing soccer, but for some reason seeing him out on that field doesn't make me QUITE as emotional. I don't know if it's because baseball is such an All-American Boy kinda thing, or if it's just the frustrating disorganization of his soccer team that keeps me from really getting too many pangs in my heart.
I am, however, relieved to know that my punkin has not outgrown his superhero obsession just yet. The other day, the kindergarten went to the auditorium and watched a Native American Flute Player. Superman was telling me about it, and said, "Mommy, he played Superman, and Batman..." And I was all "WOW! That's pretty cool!" And then he said, "And Iron Man..." And I said, suspiciously, "Wait, how does Iron Man go?" (in a disturbingly deep ozzie-like voice)"I AM IRON MAN. DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DADADA!"
And then I realized that I am stupid and my six-year-old had tricked me. I talked to one of the teachers later that evening, and she said, no, the flute player did not play any superhero theme songs. He played How Great Thou Art. Heee!

Crazy Lady Ranting and Guilt

2009-04-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

I'm having a bit of a tantrum today. Inside my head, that is. I do this quite often: get angry/hurt/sad about something and then simmer in it for days and days. I guess this isn't healthy, but it's the way I deal. Or don't deal. Whatever.
Anyway, my issue of the day is about being a single working mom. Honestly, I am really very happy with my life, and I feel good that I can take care of myself and Superman with no (financial) help from anyone. I also know that I am extremely lucky to have the support of my parents, who take care of Superman for me before school and after school until I get home from work. When I really think about it, I wouldn't want it any other way. We have adjusted well, and are doing very well. BUT then, sometimes I go to my oldest nephew's baseball games. He doesn't play in our hometown league, he plays in a league in the big city close to us, and the majority of the families are well off, moms stay at home and make themselves pretty. Last night at the game, the bad feelings started creeping up on me...I arrived straight from work, and was waiting on my parents to get there from our town with Superman in tow. Strike one for me. Then, the moms sitting in front of me were going on and on about their tans and running 15 miles that day, etc etc. Yeah. And I feel like I'm really accomplishing something if I can squeeze in a 15-20 minute workout at home in the morning before Superman wakes up and I have to leave for work. SIGH.
Aaaaand, Superman's t-ball team has a game tonight in another town. It was supposed to be at 6:30. No big deal, I can race there from work and make it. Then my amazing brother (whose two younger sons are on the same t-ball team) called me this morning and said the game was moved up 30 minutes. He got called last night. Oh. But nobody bothered to call me. Now, the rational part of me knows, this is really no big deal. They will probably call me this afternoon to tell me. And I can still get there. Superman can ride with his cousins. Calm down. But the crazy lady is screaming WTF?! I've always known I wasn't one of the cool kids in the way of moms in our town, because I don't stay home or work at the school. But crap, my child plays on the team. Doesn't that mean I should get a call, too? SIGH I know, it's stupid. I just can't help feeling shitty about it. And the really bad part is, I know that it's really my own damn fault. Because I didn't marry well. I didn't marry a responsible, successful, family kinda guy who would take care of me so that I could take care of the home and family. But the truth is, I also don't want to be June Cleaver. I mean, sure, I'd love to be always gorgeous and trendy and perfect, and have the perfect house and meals planned at least a week in advance. But I wouldn't be happy with no independence. Having to fess up or feel guilty every time I wanted to buy a new pair of shoes? That's not me. So what is my balance here? I guess if I could find a job that pays six figures, where I can work from home, and only a few days a week, and say...10am-2pm. Yes, that would work out perfectly.
Got any ideas?

I'm a poet and I didn't....realize it.

2009-04-02T13:22:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, Superman got the second black eye of his life. The first was when he was about 2, and he had been spinning around and around and around and then fell face first into the edge of the coffee table. (That was also the first of many near-fatal heart attacks for me) This black eye is the result of not watching where you're running through the snow (we got 8 inches on March 28!!!) and falling face first into a pile of firewood. Yeowch. Following the drama that is standard on the rare occasion of an injury to Superman, I was talking it up to him, how he'd look so tough with a black eye, and he could tell his friends what happened, yadda yadda.
And he said, "Yeah, Mommy. I will tell them I was bott-sing with Rocky Balboa!" heh
In other news, Yesterday was April 1. This is day of merriment for pranksters everywhere. Superman's kindergarten class had apparently been discussing the concept of the April Fool's prank earlier in the week, because he had mentioned it. So last night I was asking him if there had been any tricks going on in his classroom that day. "Yes!" he said. "What was it?" I said. "UM...I don't know."
Alrighty, then.
At bedtime, Superman was jumping around trying to delay the inevitable, so he snatched my slippers (that I love) and said "Mommy! Watch THIS!" He put my slippers on his feet, bent over a little, put his hand on the small of his back and shuffled around saying "I'm a old lady! I'm a old lady!" Can you believe this kid?! hee
So I was like, "Superman, do you think I'm an old lady? Do I look like an old lady when I wear my slippers?!" And Superman, ever the diplomat, says, "Um, Mommy?....um...APRIL FOOLS!!"
April Fools, indeed. I'm going to find myself some hipper slippers this weekend. hmph.

Ready for the Big Leagues...

2009-03-26T13:15:00.000-07:00

I wanted to put this picture at the end of this post, but, you know, I don't really know how to use a computer and stuff. So anyways...isn't she the cutest li'l otter mommy EVAH??? I want her to run around my house clutching her sleek little baby in her hands like that. SO CUTE!!!!!
OK, sorry, storytime. Superman had his first t-ball practice of the season the other night. It was WAY fun...much more organized than soccer. These boys are ages 4-6, so I use the term organized rather loosely. But, since there were 4 coaches, everybody on the field was engaged the entire time. So instead of hovering (as much as I usually do) and repeating (as much as I usually do) "Superman, pay attention...get out there with your team...listen to your coach..." I actually got to just sit and watch the kids and visit with some of the other moms.
One of the boys had gotten brushed with a glove in his...sensitive area. He came off the field laughing but trying to cry, telling his mom "OH! My TENDERS!!"
I was rolling. His Grandma was dying of embarrassment, and his mom looked at her and said, "Would you rather him say 'oh, my weenie!' or 'oh, my PENIS??'" OH, it was great.
I've had this talk with Superman a few times, about what's private on our bodies and what acceptable names for these parts are. I'm not a stickler for anatomical names, but there are some nicknames that I think are vulgar or just too gross to cross the lips of a 5 year old. Anywho, in the discussion where I told him the proper name for his most private of parts, he laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And then said, "Pee-nisth!? That sounds SIL-LEE!" I admit, I have to agree.
In other news, Superman finally lost the second of his top two front teeth. This one had also become a crooked, flapping, irritating fang. There was much rejoicing among my whole family when it finally gave up the ghost and just jumped out of his mouth.
I got a new vacuum yesterday (yes, that is extremely exciting and newsworthy), and Superman came in to inspect the floor after I used it the first time. He looked around and then said,
"Mommy, it smells like a SUE."
"A Sue?"
"No, a SUE."
"Who is Sue?"
"NOOOOOOO! A SUE, you know, like what goes on our feet?!"
HEH! A shoe. He can't make the SH sound because he has no front teeth. HA!!

SuckERRRRRR

2009-03-17T07:07:00.000-07:00

I have a cousin who is about 5 months older than me. Growing up, she and her brother always lived across the country from us, but we usually got a couple of weeks together in the summer. We had a blast during those visits. She was and still is my 'big city' cousin. She is gorgeous and worldly and has always been way more hip than me. Needless to say, I usually learned something interesting from her when they visited.
Now she has a little boy who is about 6 months younger than Superman, and a little girl who is just a little over 1, I think. They are DAHling, and Superman has a great time playing with them. They are visiting this week, and we got to see them for the first time last night. Superman and Cousin had chased and laughed and tackled and played and giggled at each other over dinner. My aunt had given them both a sucker after dinner, and they were sharing an armchair, laughing at each other while they ate them. All of the adults were talking, and Superman pipes up to tell Cousin's mom that Cousin had eaten Superman's sucker. huh?
Cousin looked at his mom and said matter-of-factly: Well, Mom, I ate his sucker because he was being very slow!
And there ya have it. One of these days Superman will learn that when you're with other kids, you don't always get to savor the pleasures of life...being an only child brings with it a certain relaxation that doesn't carry over when you're sharing a chair with another monkey like yourself. Especially if you have a sucker flavor that he wants.

Because I am Lame

2009-03-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

SO, long ago, I somehow stumbled upon this blog by this hilarious and extremely smart author, Joshilyn Jackson. I LOVED her books Gods in Alabama and Between Georgia. She has another one out, The Girl Who Stopped Swimming, which I am sure I will love as well, but, alas, I have not read it yet, because it is not out in paperback. And I am poor. Or cheap. Either way. Anyway, I check her blog every day, because she is hilarious. And I happened to leave a comment the other day, which is very unlike me, but I couldn't resist. And guess what??? Go look.
http://joshilynjackson.com/mt/
HEEEEEEE! I had a brush with fame. Not really fame, but brilliance. Someone PUBLISHED! And that is thrilling. But then I realized, what if she ever linked up to my blog and looked at it. She will know how lame I am, not only because of the mundane stories I write about my child that only I find hilarious, but MOSTLY because nobody else reads my blog. I have to admit, this is my own fault. I have never told anyone about my blog, mostly because I fear that one day I will write something about them when I am pissed off, and then they would read it and be pissed off back at me. I know. I am a wimp.
Also, I am embarrassed because the one follower of my blog..is...me. (my cheeks are burning) I didn't mean to become my own (and only) follower.....I was screwing around with the 'followers' feature thingy on here one day, mostly trying to figure out how to see if anyone had randomly looked at my blog, and I put myself on as a follower, and now I can't figure out how to delete myself. SIGH.
I am such an idiot. And I am lame. And I follow myself. I know. Thank you very much. That is all.

America's Funniest Superhero

2009-03-11T09:07:00.000-07:00

For the last two nights, after homework, Superman and I have watched reruns of America's Funniest Videos before bed. I know it's a dumb and pointless show, but it is dang funny to watch people being stupid and other people's kids being bratty. Superman LOVES this show, and during each episode, he has a running commentary that goes something like this: "OH! That's got to hurt! HAAHAHAHA Mommy, this is funny. Hahaha That was SO funny, wasn't it? hahahah Cats can't do that, can they, Mommy? OH! That's got to hurt! HAHAHAHAH That is SO funny! etc etc"
His cracking up cracks me up just as much as the show. There was one video of a toddler who was putting candy down the front of her one-piece romper thingie. When she walked around, the candies fell out of the leg of her romper one or two at a time. This is cute, and funny! And then Superman, in all seriousness, said, "She is poopin them out." Deadpan. And I laughed hysterically, so then he started saying that every 3 seconds: "Mommy, dat little girl was poopin those candies out! That was SO funny!" Yes, he gets a big kick out of making me laugh.
We usually turn the light out at 8:00, but since we've been watching these shows, we have stayed up until 9. (gasp! i know! crazy!) When I finally turned the light out an hour past bedtime last night, he wanted to know if we could read a book. I said no, it's gotten too late tonight. We'll read tomorrow. So he says:
"Mommy, did you know that it is almost day?!"
"Well then, you'd better hurry up and get to sleep!"
"Or else I will wake up with a pointy black beard tomorrow!"
"huh?"
"You know, I will wake up with those pointy beard thingies when I am tired!"
(I don't know. Must be the Spongebob episode where he and Patrick have a 'hangover' from partying all night at Spongebob's house and getting crazy on ice cream)
"OK...and then what will happen?"
"And then you will be CWAAAA-ZY!!" (hysterical laughter. from both.)

Wanted: Live-in Nanny/Costume Designer

2009-03-05T11:40:00.001-08:00

Superman, as you may have guessed from his name (which isn't what's on his birth certificate, btw...), has an affinity for superheroes. He loves all things related to super powers and those who possess them. He has told me on more than one occasion that he is getting big now, and he will start getting his super powers very soon.
I love it. I am so happy that his heroes are actual heroes, and that he doesn't want to be Drake from Drake & Josh, or whatever the hell his name is from High School Musical, or, Heaven forbid, Spongebob. Not that he doesn't love the sponge. He does. Believe me. And I would like to smack whoever it is that came up with the idea of having Spongebob on SOME kids channel EVERY DAY AT ANY GIVEN SECOND. But I digress.
Punkin has loved dressing like a superhero since he was but an eensy toddler. He was two when Superman Returns opened, and I took him to the theater to see it. He cried when it was over, because he wasn't ready to leave that amazing world where a super handsome guy has really big muscles, electric blue eyes, and is good, and honest, and clever, and FLIES. OK, so none of that stuff was a really big deal to him except the flying part. But you see what I mean.
At his last dentist appointment, he asked the dentist to please give him pointy shark teeth. (No, I have never let him watch that Discovery special on the people who file their teeth into cat or snake or bat fangs or whatever. And I know that's what the dentist thought, because he turned around and looked at me with disdain and said, "We don't do that here.") He wanted shark teeth because Shark Boy & Lava Girl has become one of his favorite movies. And shark boy is hellacool. So, he finally stopped asking me for shark teeth after the dentist told him no. But last night, out of the blue, he said, "Mommy, I want four arms." I thought he meant Four Arms, one of the hero aliens that Ben 10 turns into. (If you don't have a boy munchkin, you've probably never watched Ben 10. It's fairly good) I said, "don't you already have a Four Arms?" "NO. I want four arms ON ME." Then he proceeded to argue with me about the impossibility of getting an extra two arms attached to his precious little torso. ("You can just make them, Mommy. And put them on with some glue. SIGH!")
I am guessing that, in addition to sports, I need to encourage my little Superman to become active in theater.

Blessedly Easily Distracted

2009-03-04T13:24:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make: I have a potty mouth. Not on my blog, because you never know who might be peeking. But when I'm not in mixed company, four letter words (yes, ALL of them) are my friends. I am fairly ashamed of this fact, but I am a little bit proud of how consistently I censor my language depending on who I am around. I almost never say any naughty words around Superman, because I do not think it's cute when toddlers use those words in the proper context. I admit, I have laughed when other people's children use questionable words, but that's irrelevant. Yes it is. Shut up.
Anyhoo, I slipped up this weekend. As if it's not bad enough that it was on SUNDAY, we were also on our way to CHURCH. (hangs head in shame) Getting rounded up and out the door in time for church always starts as a fine and pleasant time, and ends up with us rushing around, jumping into the car, and me feverishly chanting: "sit down. sit down. turn around. buckle up. buckle up. buckle up. buckleupbuckleupbuckleup!superman,get-with-it-we-have-to-leave-right-this-second!!!" ahem
So we were at the chanting part on Sunday, and I was starting to pull out of the driveway, when my dog jumped out of the passenger seat and into my lap. No, we do not take the dog to church with us. Because she is sneaky and loves to gogogo, she had jumped in and was sitting quietly until she thought it was too late for me to put her back in the house, I guess. So, she jumped into my lap, and then this happened:

M: SH*T!! Penny, you can't go! (I run her back into the house and jump back into the car)
M: Superman, Mommy didn't mean to say that bad word. I shouldn't have said that.
S: What bad word did you say, Mommy?
M: (Thank you, Lord) Oh, well, I'm not going to say it again. Nevermind!
S: Did you say BUTT, Mommy?
M: (snort) Yes, that was it. That's not nice, is it? I'm sorry about that.
S: (smirking and looking smugly out the window) I knew that was what you said.

Just goes to show you, a scatterbrain can come in handy once in a while.

A sporting chance

2009-02-25T13:36:00.000-08:00

Superman starts soccer practice on Friday, so we are extremely excited about that. Mostly he's excited about the shinguards and shiny shorts part, but I'm hoping the excitement will extend to the actual sport--or at least to the comraderie eventually. He played soccer last spring, and had a really good time. I guess I shouldn't say he played soccer. He was on a soccer team and went to the practices and games...and enthusiastically participated in the snacks. The team he was on was all older kids who had played before, so he was this lone little guy out there kind of standing around, waving at me while I yelled "Go get the ball, sweetie pie! The ball! That way!" heh. It was alright. His team this year is mostly first-timers, I think, and at our meet-n-greet the coach stressed that they were just there to have fun, so that sounds good to me.
We are also signed up for our second season of t-ball, which will start somewhere around the end of soccer. Our t-ball experience last season was much the same as soccer, except the assistant coach was extremely high strung, and I was wildy entertained watching him nearly stroke out over his kid not paying attention (just like 95% of the rest of our team) at the games. I enjoy seeing people worry just as much as I do that their kids are not learning everything they need to know to be great successes in life. I mean, they're FIVE! Shouldn't they be MATURE and all??!! heee!
Superman is working hard on one aspect of becoming a bigger kid, though. The bike he got for Christmas has been getting a regular workout for the last few weeks. He's quite good on it, and tried it on Saturday without training wheels for a bit, but that wasn't so much fun. He's been talking about wanting a motorcycle (eep!) and I told him that he has to learn to ride his bike really well without training wheels before we could think about that....so you know I'm not in much of a rush for mastery of the two-wheeler yet. My best fella, on the other hand, is crazy worried about Wiley taking the training wheels off (which Wiley adamantly does not want to do). He has a couple of cousins who are younger (and INSANELY rough and wild) who both ride without t.w.'s already. I think Best Fella unconsciously thinks it's a competition, and time of t.w. removal is a critical measuring point of...something.
I think it's funny how we all (I assume) can't help but compare our kids and their milestones/achievements/best traits/few obvious flaws. And I think it's also funny how parents always secretly think their kid is the greatest in spite of how any of these comparisons turn out. And that's how it's supposed to be. I hope everyone who is blessed with the unconditional love/adoration/admiration of a little person recognizes the beauty in those little souls. The fact that we can see the perfection of our own even if nobody else does is what makes us parents. The fact that my parents thought (and still think) I was wonderful even though I am clearly flawed in numerous and glaring ways helped me grow up secure and fairly confident, and it helps me now to see the strength in myself and keep striving to do it all on my own, even when it's hard. I hope Superman can feel and absorb the adoration that I have for him. I want him to have the happiness that I have had my whole life, even through the tough times. But without the mistakes I made/make, of course. He's perfect, after all.... :)

Happy V.D.

2009-02-13T09:23:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I don't get overly excited about it, but it is kind of fun when you have somebunny to love. I have tortured Superman over the last few nights getting him to put his name on the Valentines for his class party today. That's all he had to do, just write his name 17 times. And it was torturous, I tell you. sigh. But, now it's all done, and he even wrote Valentines for MawMaw & PaPa and his two great grandmothers. They all say: I LOVEU YOU SUPERMAN. The extra little U at the end of love is because I was spelling 'love' for him, and he already knows how to spell 'you'. So on the first card I said "L-O-V-E. And then 'you'." And then he insisted on writing it that way on every one. heh.
I do remember days--no, wait, make that years-- that I despised Valentine's Day. In fact, my freshman year of college, my roommate and I were both single, and although not bitter, perhaps just a tad jealous of the giddy girls running up and down the halls squealing about the crap they had gotten from their boyfriends. Our 'resident advisor' had put sweet little cupids and hearts on the bulletin boards that were on the hall side of everyone's doors...so we dismembered ours. And then stuck their parts back on the bulletin board. We thought it was hilarious, but I don't think any of the other girls on our floor felt the love for us after that...

Happy in our Wackness

2009-02-05T14:20:00.000-08:00

I don't think I've mentioned it here before, but I have been fighting a battle with Superman for many months now. The battle of the Fang. His top front right tooth has been loose for freakin ever. He got into the habit of sticking the tip of his thumb up behind it and just absently pushing--out and to the right. This made the tooth all loosey-goosey, but only on one side. The dern thing was loose for so long that it was hanging about 1/4" lower than the rest of his teeth, an odd gap had opened up between the front & incisor(?) tooth, and he was generally looking like some sad little hayseed hick kid with one buck tooth.
So anyway, yesterday, the Fang was freed. Hallelujah! He called me at work after Papa picked him up from school and said, "Mommy, today, I losted my toof." It was definitely a cause for celebration. It's not the first one to fall out, his lower front two fell out several months ago, but this one was a hanger on that was really working my nerves.
Yesterday, coincidentally, was also 'Wacky Wednesday' in Superman's kindergarten. The kids all wore their wackiest clothes/shoes/hats/etc. For us, this meant Superman pj pants over thermal underwear, a Spider-Man t-shirt over thermal underwear, Iron Man socks on our hands, and black cowboy boots. Hee!
Superman has great fun with costumery (is that a word?), so it was right up his alley. When we were going to bed last night, he said, "Mommy, my feet are cold under the covers." I got some socks and put them on him, only to hear:
"NO! Not like that! You have to turn them wrong-side-out!"
"Huh? Why?"
"Because it's WACKY WEDNESDAY all night looooong!"
Wacky, indeed.

Almost Invulnerable

2009-02-04T10:56:00.000-08:00

So, last week we attended the birthday party that I had been worrying about. I had a very pointed and rational chat with Superman about balloons before we went, but I was just keeping my fingers crossed that he didn't bawl within the first 30 seconds.
The party was at a local restaurant, and the 'party room' is on the end of the building where we parked the car. Superman walked up to the windows and whispered, "Mommy, let me just see if they have balloons...Yep. They do." Here we go, I thought.
We walked in and the birthday girl (who we go to church with, and who has told her daddy that she is going to marry Superman) shrieked "SUPERMAAAAAANNNNN!!!!!" the way that only a six-year-old girl can. It was SO cute. And so was Superman's little reaction. "Yeah, girls, here I am. Feast your eyes..." At least that's what I thought I saw on his face.
Birthday girl wanted to show Superman her cake, her presents, her party hats, and her balloons. I don't know if it was because the balloons were secured together in a corner or if he was just feeling very steely, but Superman didn't bat an eye. He had pizza and cake and burped with the boys and I was so proud. Here's hoping that this was an actual milestone event in overcoming the globophobia, and not just a fluke of kindergarten testosterone.
On the way home, I was telling Superman how glad I was that he had had a good time, and he said, "Mommy, I didn't cry from those balloons."
"I know it, Bub. You're so big and strong."
"But Mommy, when it's my birthday and I am six, um, let's don't have any balloons."
Point taken, Punkin.

Inflatable Kryptonite

2009-01-23T11:14:00.000-08:00

You know how Superman (the one on the big screen, not my personal Superman) has one weakness--kryptonite--and you know how it brings him immediately to his knees, turning him into a pathetic and weakened shell of the Man of Steel? Well, MY Superman has a weakness, too. It comes in the form of a weird condition called globophobia--fear of balloons.
Stop laughing! It is, too, real. And so is a fear of cotton. I've looked it up. hmph. Anyway, my Superman started out like every other kid, playing with balloons on his first birthday, getting the giant Elmo head helium balloon at Sesame Street Live, all that jazz. I can't really pinpoint what triggered the phobia, although I suspect it may have something to do with the time we were eating at a chain restaurant that ties balloons to the backs of kids' chairs. His balloon didn't pop, but someone else's did, and the noise scared the bejeezus outta my baby. As he has gotten bigger, so has his fear. He is afraid of those squishy rubber things that are kind of like stress balls, afraid of the rubber eggs with baby dinosaurs inside, and actual balloons have him freaking out and bawling hysterically until he and I are both sweaty and covered in snot. As you can imagine, this makes most birthday parties a major catastrophe.
A few weeks ago he attended a birthday for a friend in his class. About 15 minutes after I dropped him off, my cell phone rang. "Mommy, I want to come home." I guess the friend had blown up a balloon and let it go to fly around the room, and Superman went into hiding in the closet. The mom was so apologetic, and I felt horrible and told her that it was ok, I know his fear is irrational, and, by God, the birthday boy should get to play with balloons on his own birthday! So now another friend is having a birthday party next week, and Superman has announced that he does not want to go, there will be balloons there. SIGH
I have tried every form of logic and whatthehellever, trying to make him realize that balloons don't hurt people, even if they pop, it doesn't hurt anyone, you don't have to like them or play with them, but you shouldn't cry, either. Nothing has worked so far.
So I'm terrified that my fragile punkin is going to end up sucking his thumb in the closet at keg parties because his buddies are bringing out water balloons. I constantly worry that he won't fit in, or won't do well, or will be unhappy, or whatever, because....well, I guess because I got him a crappy daddy and now he's a child from a broken home and I feel horribly guilty for that. So! ahem.
However, last night I got a little salve for my troubled soul. In the area of my baby's self-worth, anyway. We had read a new superhero book at bedtime, and the last page shows the superheroes milling around, chatting up the locals that they had rescued from certain death by irate seagull.
Superman said, "Look, Mommy. People are taking Batman's autograph!"
I said, "Yeah, I didn't know you knew what an autograph was!"
"Yeah, people want to get my autograph all the time because they think I am the coolest kid in the world." (chuckling smugly)
So, yeah, it looks like my fear that he will have low self-esteem is...just a tad misplaced. heh.

Chicks Dig It

2009-01-22T09:16:00.000-08:00

My Superman is a man about town. He is hardly ever shy, and he's quick to make friends and charm everyone he sees. I'm very thankful that he's this way...I can remember being shy and ridiculously easily embarrassed by myself when I was young. Even now, I have a hard time speaking before being spoken to, and I find it much easier to keep quiet in a group of folks that I don't know, rather than putting it out there and making an effort to gather new friends. Superman, however, is another story. He lo-o-o-oves to look at himself in the mirror, loves to wear costumes to Wal-Mart (and NOT just on Halloween), loves for me to fix his hair all spiky and grin smugly when it gets a reaction from anyone.
He seems to get the most attention from ladies (of any age), and he is cool with that. In fact, his every day playmate in pre-k last year was a girl, and this year he sits at a table of 3 girls, plus himself. For a while, I was thinking that this must be because he's the only child of a single mom, he's around me all the time, doesn't have a dad that's around showing him to be all manly and stuff...but then I got to thinking, he's with his Papa every day. Papa takes him to school, picks him up from school, and takes care of him from the time school is out until I get home from work. (Thank you, Lord, for Papa and the rest of my wonderful amazing family!) And neither Papa nor Superman are the slightest bit fem. So perhaps my hypothesis of the single-mom-household-equals-has-a-way-with-the-females isn't quite right.
At the beginning of the school year this year, one evening he confirmed my suspicion that it might be more like his huge blue eyes/dark, thick lashes & hair/quick smile that makes him so popular with the Hannah Montana set. We were driving home and had this conversation:
S: Mommy, today I sat with Allison in the gym.
M: Oh, yeah? Is she your friend?
S: Yeah, and we play No Boys Allowed.
M: hmm..well, Hon, how can you play that, when you ARE a boy?
S: It's me and Allison and Morgan and Emily and Tyra...
M: (oh my) You mean it's just you and a bunch of girls and they don't let any other boys sit with them?
S: Yep!
M: Why is that? Is it because you're nice?
S: Yep. *giggle* And they call me HANT-SOME.
And then I had a slight stroke amid the visions of my handsome and social baby boy at 15...and I called and made a reservation for him to go to military school when he turns 11. Heh.
At least I probably don't have to worry about him having a problem with confidence.

Remember her in your prayers

2009-01-19T09:39:00.000-08:00

The holidays have finally come to an end, school is back, and no more days off from work until...Good Friday. sigh. My heart is sad. But only when I think about the lack of holidays in my work schedule! Otherwise, my heart is mostly fine, although shrivled and black. heh.
In all seriousness, my sister-in-law's mother is seriously ill. My nephews were all at my parents' house the other night when I went to pick up Superman after I got home from work. The oldest nephew had basketball, and my mom was going to take them all to the practice to meet their mom when she returned from the hospital. Of course, Superman had had a big day at school and had been going ninety to nothing playing with his cousins 'tha guys' all afternoon. So he wasn't ready to leave, he wanted to go with them, he wanted his aunt to bring him home, wah wah yadda yadda Big Nasty Fit. Now, understand, My Precious Angel is normally very well behaved and a pleasure to be around. He's usually pleasant and mostly cooperative. However, when he is over tired and gets in The Mood, The Big Nasty Fit is really really nasty. SO, he was in trouble and getting the lecture and I was explaining to him on the way home that tha guys' other Mawmaw is very sick, so if Auntie and some of our family seems sad, that is why. He was asking, 'But why?' And I told him that I didn't know why, and all we could do was hope that she would get better and pray for her and her family. So when we went to bed that night, we said our prayers and then Superman said, "But Mommy. You forgot. You know, to pray for our other people who are sick." And then I cried and blubbered and squashed my darling offspring because I LOVE HIM SO MU-U-U-UCH (Holly Hunter in Raising Arizona, anyone?) ...but actually, I added on some more to our prayers and blinked back my tears and marveled at how pure the little punkins' hearts are. And I want to be more like that.

Strawberry Scented Madness

2008-12-30T08:10:00.000-08:00

If I take down my Christmas tree before the New Year, does that make me less-Christmas-spirited than usual? Because I don't want to be that. And I don't feel that. I just don't have enough room in my house!
And my dog, Penny, has adopted one of the little stuffed Christmas thingies that sit under the tree as her favorite object of aggression. It's a cute, velvety soft little bean-bag-feeling reindeer. And Penny grabs it and turns into Mr. Chew from the Penguins Christmas Caper. If you don't know what that is, you are sadly deprived and obviously have no little children in your house. Go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb1CnVPhD-0&feature=related and forward to about 1:50. THIS is Penny. Except she is gray. And her penguin is a little reindeer. You might be thinking that if I was smart, I would get the reindeer off of the floor so she can't chew on it. Are you thinking that? Well, you're right. But the truth is, it's kind of funny. Superman has heard me admonish the dog for the reindeer offense so many times, that he tattles on her now. Last night I was putting laundry away, and from the living room I hear Penny growling, then Superman in a bored little voice:
"Mooooommyyyyyy....Peennnyy."
So I go in and Superman's sitting in the chair with his chin in his hand all but rolling his eyes and trying to watch cartoons, and Penny is in the middle of the floor with the reindeer's throat in her jaws, doggie eyes looking up at me saying, "Are you going to take this from me again, or do you wanna play??grr grr grr"
And later, when it was time for bed, Superman, Master Staller, was at work. I have this Strawberry Shortcake ornament on the tree that I bought last year, and i love it. I have always loved this little redhead who is named after dessert. And this ornament is SCENTED. It has that delicious plastic-fake-strawberry-scent that Li'l Miss Shortcake always had when she was a toy. Anyway, I said (again)
"Superman, bedtime."
"Umm...Mommy...ummm...can I have a drink?"
"Just a little sip of milk and that's it. Now come on."
"Ummm...Mommy! I have a good idea!"
"OK..?"
"Let's smell Strawberry Shortcake!(sniffing) MMM! Mmm! That smells good! Smell, Mommy!"
"OK, I've smelled her, again. Come on. Bedtime."
"Ummm...Mommy...did you make this Strawberry Shortcake? She is SOOOO beyoodiful."
So I had to laugh and pick the munchin up and squeeze him and then carry his 50 pounds to bed. My punkin. He is also a master manipulator!

One More Thing

2008-12-29T08:59:00.000-08:00

The other night we were in the car coming home from somewhere, and Superman was exceptionally exuberant (hyper) and was doing all sorts of things in the backseat that I didn't approve of.... After many many many 'Superman, stop its'/'OK Mommy, sorrys', we finally got home and he got out of the car and did something ELSE to test my patience. I gave him my MommyBigEyes and said, "Superman, what is wrong with you tonight? Why are you acting like this?" And he (my sweet little speech impedimented baby) said, "I don't know! Sumfin is wong wit my bwain!!" And danced a happy little bwain damaged jig on into the house.
Heh. Being a mom is the most funnest thing I didn't ever got to do before!

And God Bless Us, Every Super Hero

2008-12-29T08:33:00.001-08:00

We made it! Christmas was wonderful (as always). Santa brought Superman a new bike, his Auntie got him the R/C Batmobile, and Maw Maw & Paw Paw gave him the Indiana Jones sound whip. These are merely the highlights. He got so many toys (as always) that I have spent the last 4 days overwhelmed by the crap strewn about my tiny house. We also had a little chat about what Christmas is really all about (not presents) and what we do whenever ANYONE thinks enough of us to give us a present.

Mommy: yadda yadda yadda...True Meaning of Christmas...yadda yadda yadda
So anytime someone gives you a gift, even if it's not something that you like very
much, you smile and say thank you--

Superman:And you give them hugs to make them feel good.

Mommy: ----

So, I'd say he's got it. And his thing this year was, every time he really liked one of his presents, he would say, "Mommy! I didn't got to have this before!"
We also had 3 guests in our tiny shoebox of a house for 5 days....my best fella and his two little monkeys (Wiley is also 5, Princess is 3) stayed with us and will be staying with us again come Tuesday evening...So I had the loot of 3 adorable, spoiled little children plus wrapping paper plus box/packaging material plus dirty laundry plus a neurotic poodle, so my house exploded on Sunday and now we have to move. OK, so it didn't explode, but we do have to move. Hopefully to a house that has more than 800 sq ft. Because 5 people plus everything that comes with them plus a dog scattered all over my floors has caused me distress. *sigh* My parents really want me to buy a house....but I'm not really feeling that idea. I want to rent a slightly bigger house (and as my parents see it, throw away slightly bigger amounts of my paycheck every month)... But I want to have enough flexibility to move when the time is right. SO! I have alot on my mind today, hence the rambling. SO! What was I writing about? Oh, Christmas! Yes! We made it! It was grand! I love exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!! I need some eggnog.

T minus 3

2008-12-22T07:06:00.000-08:00

So Christmas is in 3 days. THREE DAYS!! Superman has started his school vacation, our Christmas tree and lights have been up since Thanksgiving, I am already gaining holiday weight...and all is right with the world.
Superman and I lived with my parents for the first two years after my divorce, so this year is the first that he and I will have Christmas morning at our own house. I am looking forward to it and hoping that he will have great memories and scolding myself for worrying that I haven't gotten him enough presents, or that they aren't the 'right' ones, even though I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW that is not what Christmas is all about. But he's only five....and I want him to have fun. But anyway, having presents under the tree has been like kryptonite to my Superman. Seeing his name on them makes him weak and nauseous and causes him to beg to be allowed to open them. It's quite funny. And then annoying. Like the other night, he 'accidentally' peeled the tape off of one end of one of his gifts. I was in the other room, and he announced, "Mommy! I know what's in this one!" So I ran in there, and he couldn't see what was in the stupid package, it was just the white bottom of a box. Ha! So I put on my Mean Mommy face and told him if he didn't leave the presents alone, I would have to return them. He sat solemn-faced listening to my lecture and said, "Okay. Can I open one now?" SIGH!!

The Bursting of My Heart

2008-12-15T07:36:00.000-08:00

My son has slept with me since the day he was born.
I was one of those women who (before I was a mom) said I would never have my child in bed with me. Oh no, I won't allow that. Not ever. No way. Then my punkin came into the world, and the only time I could be relaxed and assured that he was okay was when his little warm body was pressed up against me. Now he is five years old and he likes to sleep in his own bed sometimes, but we still read a story every night and he wants me to lie down with him. Last night we were snuggled up in his big boy bed and I turned the lamp off, and he said, "Mommy, did you know that some baby animals, they lay up under their mommy's necks?"
"Yes, I think that helps them feel safe and stay warm."
"Yeah, like when I turn over like this (pressing his back to me) and say, Mommy can you hold me..."
He does say that every night before he sleeps, and I love it. I'd just never put alot of thought into what that meant to him.
I remember when he was only a week old and we had just come home from the hospital. We were lying there in bed and I was doing the adoring mother stare, taking in every molecule of his little being and marveling at the miracle that was my baby. He opened his little eyes and stared back at me, with the most peaceful expression on his face. Right then, a thought slammed into me, that I was this little person's mother. I was his protector and his caregiver, and being there close to me, he felt safe and secure and so very loved. Just like I always felt (feel) when my parents are close.
I hope, when he's fifteen and thinks I'm an idiot and wants to quit school and smoke cigarettes, he will still be able to feel that security with me. Although I know it will be buried under a pile of hormones and patchy beard stubble.

So, um...hi...

2008-12-10T14:03:00.000-08:00

Thank you for joining me here on my first foray into blogdom. I'm not sure what exactly I hope to accomplish with this....except for maybe emptying my head every now and then.

I am a 30 something single mom living in a small town in the midwest. My son is 5 years old, the light and purpose and meaning in my little speck of the world. He is generally full of bits of wisdom and observations that can only spring from the mind of a kindergartner. For instance, a while ago we were sitting at the table with my parents, and I was giving him the usual 20 questions about school. We were talking about his friends and how many boys there were versus how many girls, etc. etc.

Superman: Mommy, when Cole talks about girls, he always says 'he'. 'He, he, he...'
Mommy: Oh, you mean he doesn't say 'she'?
Superman: No, he doesn't speak Spanish.